


Cream to Your Coffee

by nicolespork



Series: Excuse Me Waiter, This Coffee is Burnt [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 48,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolespork/pseuds/nicolespork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro thought hipsters were the worst part of his day, until some snobby rich kid decided to start fucking with him. What happens next finds Bro drafted into the war between self control and crippling desire. And he's not sure which side he should be on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work was slow, so I wrote a thing. Based on tumblr user dirk---strider's barista AU, with some stuff I added in on my own just to give it more structure and flow.

_I hate my job._ That sentence is on repeat in your head as your shift drags on. You started this job about the same time Dave was starting school when he was younger because it was a lot better to say you’re a barista at Starbucks than the owner of a multi-billion dollar puppet porn site (although less interesting. But that’s the sacrifice you make to give Dave a normal school life). Now that he’s old enough for it to not matter, you find yourself still stuck being a shift leader at the most soul sucking coffeehouse on earth. You’re not allowed to wear your shades (which is okay you guess, your level of pokerface has evolved passed needing them to aid in your indifference) and some of your co-workers are the most arrogant college kids you have ever met.

But those things you can tolerate. It’s the customers that get under your skin and pose a threat to your mask of casual disinterest. If you see one more girl with bleach blonde hair walk in here wearing Ugg boots with short shorts or a skirt hold her coffee up in the air to take a picture for Instagram you will bump into her so she drops it all over her face and you’re confident you can make it look like an accident (you’re also confident it’ll be worth the clean up involved). You’ve gotten into the habit of keeping a mental tally of the amount of Apple products that come in, and the pretentious assholes that mooch off the free Wi-Fi. And you want to punch each costumer that tries to pronounce half the stuff on the menu, either they add an extra syllable to Macchiato or say _ex_ presso instead of _es_ presso and it’s enough to make your blood curl as you try not to correct them.

It’s not particularly busy this one morning, and you’re talking with Gamzee like always because he’s actually one of the more tolerable ones. He likes your music and he likes puppets and you’re pretty sure he’s stoned 24/7 but you don’t say anything because he gets his shit done better than half the other employees his age. You’re both shooting the breeze, when you see a blue and black streak by the window and Gamzee’s back is turned away from it but you know he catches on to your stiffness before he moves out of the way and lets you work. There’s one customer that beats out the rest in terms of getting under your skin and making you want to punch something, and he comes in every day you work and you’re pretty sure he’s barely even old enough to drive because he looks to be about the same age as Dave. 

At first you didn’t mind the kid, he was snobby just like the others and he thinks he’s above you because he doesn’t know that you just keep this job for appearances sake just like the others. But then he started making his orders complex. And you know he’s not doing it because he’s suddenly got the interest of being an entrepreneur of coffee. You know he’s doing it on purpose because the orders aren’t complex for the reason of trying new things; they’re needlessly complex. As if he sits for hours in front of his computer with the menu open and studies each possible combination and you hate him for it. And you know he knows because he’s the only one that’s been able to ever get a visible reaction out of you and you’re not sure how you feel about that. For the last month he’s been ordering the same thing each time. You’ve been making a point to have it ready by the time he reaches the counter. Today is no different.

He greets you with a smirk you want nothing more than to wipe off his face and he crosses his arms in front of his chest and his entire stance just screams impatient and you want to dump the coffee over his head.

“I got your two-third’s decaf, two pump toffee nut, two pumps hazelnut, one pump vanilla, soy, venti macchiato,” you recite it all in one breath. You’re used to this. His stance remains the same.

“With whipped cr-“

 _“With whipped cream,”_ you snarl. Only once did you slip and not top it with whipped cream, and like any teenager he hasn’t let you forget it. “Anything else, princess?”

He rolls his eyes and digs out his wallet, handing you a twenty and you give him his change and slide the drink toward him. He takes it and leaves. You glare at his back and hope he can feel it. Gamzee laughs.

“He’s not going to forget you called him that,” he says in a tone that’s almost warning. And that’s fine with you; a part of you doesn’t him to.

==>

The next day he comes in, and there’s something about the determination in his steps that makes you wait on filling out his order. He comes up to the counter and Gamzee is watching from the drive thru window and the look this kid is giving you could sharpen knives. Your hand lingers over the cups.

“I’ll take a half decaf latte with one pump toffee nut, two pumps vanilla, one pump caramel, extra hot with absolutely no foam and an extra shot. Grande size,” you grab a cup and Sharpie and mark up the cup accordingly when his expression changes to one of mock thoughtfulness. “Actually make it a venti.”

You grunt and grab another cup and are about to mark it when he looks bored and leans against the counter with his elbow on the surface and his hand propping up his head and you just want to punch him.

“You know what, I actually want a hazelnut macchiato with vanilla spice. Grande.”

He doesn’t say please and you curse him under your breath and you know he hears you, he has to hear you, and you see Gamzee looking kind of bemused and if you didn’t like him so much you’d throw something at him for enjoying this.

You make the drink and ring it up and slam it down maybe a bit too roughly, “That’ll be four-fifteen.”

He makes a huge dramatic show of pulling out his wallet and unfolding it, and an even bigger one flipping through the money and you roll your eyes. And then he face palms as he laughs while staring into his wallet, and he’s laughing as if he told the world’s funniest joke and everyone else is too stupid to not get it.

“What am I saying? I don’t even drink coffee!” And he slips his wallet back into pocket still giggling to himself and your eye twitches, and you can feel the smug dripping off that condescending wave that he gives you as he turns to leave. Without even really thinking you grab one of the cups you discarded and throw it at him. It bounds off his head with a satisfying thunk and it’s your turn to be smug and Gamzee laughs, and the kid glares at you with a look that says ‘this isn’t over’ and you meet it right back with your own ‘bring it on’ expression and watch him walk out the door.

==>

The days pass with no real encounters. He makes petty complaints that you greet with an obviously fake smile and he glowers at your back until one day he comes in and uncharacteristically checks out the bakery case.

“Are the cake pops made with Betty Crocker brand batter?” he asks. You’ve heard a lot of stupid questions, but this one probably takes the cake (pop). You deadpan at him, really having to stop yourself from hopping over the counter and laughing right in his face because there was no way he seriously asked that question.

“What?” You just have to clarify you weren’t hearing things.

“Are...the…cake pops…Betty…Crocker,” and he’s repeating it slowly, exaggerating each syllable.

“Uh, I don’t fucking know,” you’re passed the point of watching your mouth around him. It’s not like he seriously cares anyway.

“Check,” he demands and you roll your eyes and go to the back room. You don’t check. You stand there for about five minutes because you already know you’re not going to find anything that tells you what’s in the bakery stuff because unless it’s an allergen it’s not your concern. You back out there, and you hear the tapping of his boat shoe.

“They aren’t Betty Crocker,” you lie because you don’t know and you don’t give a shit either way. He gives you a suspicious look and turns his attention to Gamzee for the first time.

“You. Go out and check. I don’t believe him.”

Shit. You hadn’t thought he’d stoop so low. You don’t think Gamzee would throw you under the bus, but you just can’t be certain he’s that loyal to you. On the other hand he does know how big of a shit this kid is, so maybe. He goes out back and he’s in there just as long as you were. He gives you a knowing look that you doubt the kid is observant enough to notice.

“Nah man, they ain’t Betty Crocker. Shit’s made with Pillsbury.”

That seems to satisfy him enough and Gamzee gets him one and rings him out and you would kiss your coworker if you thought you wouldn’t get charged with sexual harassment. The kid makes a show of putting it in his mouth and you’re pretty sure he’s trying to be seductive but the size of the pop is kind of negating that and you laugh and he glares because that probably wasn’t the desired effect he wanted to have. He leaves without saying anything. You promise Gamzee a free pass to your next gig, and he seems pleased.

==>

You don’t see him for a week. You hate yourself for noticing.

==>

Another three days pass. You’re starting to hate yourself because you’re starting to give a shit.

==>

When it’s been two weeks since the cake pop incident he comes back in. Gamzee is sitting at one of the tables on his break and looks up when the kid comes in and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s happy he gets a front row seat to this. The kid stomps up to the counter and slams his hands down on it and leans over it and he’s trying to be menacing but really he just looks ridiculous.

“You lied,” he accuses before you can ask him what His Highness wants. You fake a look of hurt.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The cake pop. It’s fucking made with Betty Crocker, you lied.”

You tell him that you weren’t the only one who said it wasn’t and he says he doesn’t care because you’re the one in charge and you probably bribed him to be on your side and you look at Gamzee and he just has the most shit eating grin on his face.

“So what are you going to do about it?” You challenge, and you know he sees it as one and he’s giving you the hardest stare and you can see the wheels in his head turning. You know he’s planning something. You know his two-week hiatus was because he was planning something. You’re just not sure what it was, and you’ll never admit that you’re nervous to find out.

“I want a hazelnut macchiato. Iced. Venti.” And the order is so simple that you actually hesitate as if expecting more and he raises an eyebrow and taps his wrist.

You make the drink and total it out and he hands you the money and you hand over drink and he grabs your apron.

He doesn’t grab the drink he grabs your apron and pulls you forward and you’re caught so off guard that you don’t react until you feel the wetness of his lips on yours and your eyes widen and his are shut and you hear Gamzee say ‘holy shit’ and it sounds so distant for some reason. And then you realize it’s because your heart is thumping so loudly against your chest that you think it’s trying to break free.

It doesn’t last long. He lets go of your apron and grabs his drink and leaves as quickly as he had kissed you and you’re so baffled that you stand there, mouth slightly agape as Gamzee comes back around the counter.

He puts his hand on your shoulder sympathetically and you can hear the amusement in his voice when he says, “I fucking love my job.”

You come back to reality and swat his hand away and tell him to get back to work before you give him a reason to hate it. He laughs. And out of the corner of your eye you can still see the kid standing in the window so you turn and when you make eye contact he smiles, and it reaches his eyes, and he seems satisfied enough with that that he walks away in the direction he always comes from.

You catch yourself smiling and shake away almost immediately. You roll your eyes even though he’s not there to see it and that damn smile comes back and doesn’t leave for the rest of your shift.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro has 99 problems and that kid who comes into Starbucks is all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzers! I wasn't really planning on turning this into a multi-chapter fic, but I was asked if I could and I got a lot of love for it, and I really enjoyed writing it so I figured why not! I have a few ideas already and I can't wait to write them out! I will try to update regularly, at least once or twice a week though I do have a con coming up so be patient with me please! I don't have an idea yet how long it'll be. I do want to build up to their established relationship so, it'll be decently long. Anyway, enjoy! :D

Gamzee takes to calling the kid your boyfriend immediately after what you immediately afterwards started calling “The Incident.” He’s got it in his head you two would make a cute couple. You blame the drugs.

“Kind of fucked up though,” he says the next day. “Kid plants one on you and you still don’t even know his name. What kind of lover are you?” You throw the roll of paper towels you were using to clean at him. Sometimes you hate how much you enjoy his company.

==>

You don’t see him for a week. You assume it’s from embarrassment and you’re actually a bit grateful he’s being incognito because you’re not really sure how you’ll handle the next encounter. Gamzee seems upset by it, but not enough to refrain from asking if there’s trouble in paradise.

You spot him walking by the window and notice someone else with him. You’re kind of surprised since you didn’t think he even had any friends, at least ones he’s dragged in with him. The kid with him is short and dressed a bit nicer than your walking headache. You don’t know why, but you feel a clenching in your stomach and look at Gamzee as if he’d know anything about the situation and he just shrugs.

When they walk in, the kid’s voice carries. He seems to be excited about whatever they’re talking about, hands moving wildly and a smile plastered on his face and Shorty is looking bored or just uninterested. Maybe this is one of those friends for hire kind of deals, but you doubt those actually happen outside of movies. They get up to the counter and the kid’s still smiling and Shorty looks a bit happier up close too. And that only adds to tying your stomach in knots. You can’t help but think that this is just a plan to make you jealous. The kid paid some boy at his school to come in with him and dangle him in front of you. Well fine, you aren’t going to give the kid the satisfaction of a response. You take and make their order, and Shorty pays. How fucking cute, it’s like some wannabe grown up date and it makes you sick. You give them change and say have a nice day.

You watch them walk out the door and when they pass the window you notice the kid going to grab Shorty’s hand. Later on in your shift you burn yourself on a coffee pot because you weren’t paying attention. All you think about for the next two days is hands.

==>

You notice he doesn’t show up for a week. This whole counting the days thing is starting to become a problem. Gamzee doesn’t help it either by reminding you how long it has been. The kid comes up to the counter at a leisurely pace and stares blankly at the menu. You know he’s just being dramatic. He brings his gaze to you and you look back at him and there’s silence for a few beats.

“It’s impolite not to greet your customers.”

You want to beat him with the register.

“Good morning, _sir_. How may I help you?”

“Hot decaf soy latte with three pumps caramel and two-third’s foam. Make it venti.”

You mark the cup and key it into the register.

“And would you like fries with that?”

He snickers at you and you make his drink and total it out. After he pays, he picks up the cup and sets it down almost instantly.

“I asked for two-thirds foam and this is only one-third.”

You inwardly sigh. Mostly because you feel like kicking yourself for even thinking he would cut the bullshit out. You let your guard down. How amateur of you.

“How could you even know that just by picking it up?”

“I order this drink exactly the same on a daily basis-“

“This is the first fucking time you’ve ordered it. Do you even remember this place exists on my days off?”

“And everyone else seems to be competent enough to make it right-“

“I doubt you even know what the other people who work here look like.”

“Don’t even get me started on the way I’m treated. I’m a regular customer and I don’t get treated with respect at all-“

“You’re a regular pain in the ass. Every single time you walk in he-“

“Oh would you get over it? You’re supposed to an adult and still you act like a-“

“You don’t even know me enough to finish that sentence.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind meeting me when your shift is over to prove it.”

You answer before you really even think about what that implies.

“Consider me tickled pink to prove you wrong.”

“Great. See you this afternoon then.”

“Yeah you will.”

He grins the most devilish grin you’ve ever seen.

“I look forward to it, _Bro_ ,” that’s the first time he’s ever used the name on your badge and he says it in a way you can practically hear ‘if that is your real name’ tacked onto the end. Gamzee is at your side and he pulls you into a half hug.

“Your first date, Bro! I’m feeling like such a proud mother right now.”

You shake out of his grip and snort, “It’s not my first date.”

“But it is a date?”

You stare at him incredulously because no. That’s not what you meant at all Gamzee, you shit.

“Dude, what? No. It’s just a casual hang out where I show him just how much he doesn’t know about me because he seems to think he has me pegged.”

“So…you’re getting to know each other?”

“I guess.”

“Are you gonna go out to eat?”

“Probably, I mean I’m always hungry when I get out of work and if he wants to tag along then whatever, I’ll let him. If he wants to get something too, then sure. Why the fuck not.”

“Are you going to pay?”

“There’s no sense in him spending anymore of his daddy’s not so precious money. It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

And that’s when it all hits you and Gamzee is all wide smiles and tries to hug you again but you hold up your hand to stop him.

“I should fucking fire you right now.”

“Man, you should have fired me months ago but you won’t because I actually work and you’d be so motherfucking bored.”

You lightly shove him, “Quit reminding me, asshole.”

He laughs and takes the order at the drive thru that just pulled up. A rush of people are coming in but it’s not enough to distract you from the fact that once again the kid pulls a fast one on you. And it’s one you should have seen coming. You played right into his hand and didn’t even think about it and until it was too late. The effect this kid has on your rational thinking is scaring you. In a few hours you’re going to go on date with a person who’s the same age as your brother. You think that should bother you more than it does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author showcases how romantic she is.

“This isn’t a date,” he says when you first meet him outside. You wonder how long he’s been out here waiting for you and you can’t tell if it’s cute or creepy especially since you didn’t notice (not that you were keeping an eye out for him or anything). 

“I know,” you reply because you do. As much as Gamzee had insisted otherwise, you know better than to consider this a date. You don’t date bratty kids. Or kids at all.

“Good. Because I don’t date old people,” you want to punch his smug attitude in the face. Instead you give him an incredulous look and start walking to your car, he follows close behind.

“You don’t date them? But you have no problem making out with them? I could have sued you for sexual harassment you know.”

You open the driver’s side door and toss the apron in it. He opens the passenger’s side and you see him roll his eyes before getting in. Well, looks like you two will be going somewhere after all. Honestly all you wanted to do was ditch the apron but you get in and close the door without saying anything.

“I didn’t make out with you. I didn’t even slip you any tongue. Besides, that doesn’t count. It was a prank.”

You raise an eyebrow and reach across the center consul to grab your shades out of the glove box. You put them on and he just stares at you. It’s then that you remember he’s never seen you wear these before.

“A prank? How was that a prank?”

“A true master never reveals his secrets. Goes against the code.”

“The code?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Look, I can’t tell you. If I did I would lose all of my prankster’s gambit and I’ve put a lot of effort into getting it this high. It happened. It was a prank. Get over it.”

“I still could have sued you.”

He scoffs, “No need for your empty threats. I knew you wouldn’t.”

You give him a bemused look, “And how did you know that?”

“It’s the same reason you still allow me in the store and put up with me, you like the attention.”

You say nothing and start the car and he laughs.

“It’s okay,” he assures. “I like attention too.”

You were able to guess that much. As much as you’ve been enjoying sitting outside your place of work, you ask him if there’s anywhere he wants to go for food, he just shrugs and says whatever you can afford and of course he thinks you’re some poor guy living on minimum wage so you ask him if he means to eat or buy out and he laughs. You join him in the laughing with your own chuckling because he’s laughing because he think you’re joking, and you’re laughing because he has no idea how serious you are. He chooses Taco Bell, and you have no objections to that.

==>

The ride is mostly filled with him talking, not that that’s really a problem, and you realize that he talks a lot, and changes the subject a lot, and you have a hard time keeping up with what he’s talking about. Eventually you pull up to the Taco Bell as he starts talking about some movie you don’t particularly care for. You park the car and get out and he scrabbles to catch up with you.

“Jeez, you’re even grumpier than Karkat,” he sighs once he’s at your side, you hold the door open for him and he shuffles passed you.

“What the fuck is a Karkat?”

You both stand at the back of the line and look at the menu. He decides what he wants fairly quickly and then turns his attention back to you.

“The kid I was with last week.”

“Please don’t compare me to your shota boyfriend.”

He huffs and is about to say something when it’s your turn to order. And just as you figured, you were the one that ended up paying (this isn’t a date, this isn’t a date). He moves off the side to wait for the number to be called and you join him, leaning against the counter.

“He’s not my boyfriend. When we lived in Washington, my dad worked with Karkat’s dad and they became pretty close friends. Thanks to his job, I was never in one place long enough to make any friends so I’ve been homeschooled pretty much my whole life. So, Karkat and his dad come and visit us every so often even if we relocate. I think we’re going to stay here permanently though, Dad says this is the nicest office he’s ever had.”

Your number gets called and you pick up the tray. The kid picks a booth and you sit across from him and immediately dive into your food. You haven’t eaten all day and even though this is the farthest from what you’d consider real food, you’re not going to complain. You swallow a particularly large bite before talking.

“So then what was with the hand holding?” There was no way for you ask that without sounding dumb and like it hadn’t bugged you, and the second it sinks into him what you asked, he grins. You go back to your taco and decide that eating is more important than having this conversation. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t feel the same.

“It made you jealous, didn’t it?”

You glare at him, he grins wider, and the rest of the meal is silent.

==>

He tells you how to get to his house in between his stories of some the different places he’s been to before stationing in Texas. You’re surprised when he directs a question at you.

“Have you ever travelled?” It’s not asked with a patronizing tone, it wasn’t meant to mock you, and once again you’re surprised because that’s all he seems to know how to do when he talks to you.

“I used to, a bit. But I’ve been taking care of my little brother for the last 16 years so I haven’t really gone out much.”

He seems stunned by the answer and asks you what you travelled for. You debate if now would be a good time to tell him about your other job, but instead tell him that you just felt like it. You pull into the driveway of a pretty modest suburban home and you’re not even a little bit stunned that he lives here. White house, white picket fence; it’s the ideal place for a kid like him. He looks a little forlorn when he turns to you.

“See you tomorrow?”

You chuckle, “You know my schedule just as well as I do, kid. I’m off tomorrow.”

“I didn’t mean at Starbucks.”

Oh. That was unexpected to say the least. You look back at him and he’s giving you the ultimate stare down and you don’t know how to say no. You don’t really want to say no, but someone’s got to set the boundaries and it’s not going to be this kid.

“I’m really flattered that you have some little crush on me-“

“I don’t,” he immediately cuts off and his cheeks flush, and yeah. _He does_. And you’re not sure how to feel about that, and you’re not sure why it makes your heart go into double time. You really aren’t used to this whole dating thing, are you.

“But, I’m going to be honest I don’t do this kind of thing often. This whole, getting to know people thing I mean since this wasn’t a date-“

“It wasn’t.” The flush turns into a nice shade of red. _Yeah, it really was though, kid_.

“ _But_ , I’m not sure how I feel about going on another one of these 'not dates' when I don’t even know your name.”

“John. My name is John.”

“It’s nice to meet you, John.”

“Am I going to see you tomorrow, then?”

You sigh. He didn’t get it.

“Why don’t we just keep it to you harassing me at work for a little while and see where it goes from there?”

He sighs and draws out the word fine as he gets out of the car and shuts the door with a bit more force than you’d say was necessary. You watch him go into his house before backing out of the driveway and drive in the direction of your apartment. Dave doesn’t even question why you’re home so late, and you like it that way because you aren’t sure what you’d even say to him. He nods at you in acknowledgement and you fist bump him on your way to your room. You collapse onto your bed face first into your pillows after discarding your shades onto your bedside table and soon you’re asleep. You dream of vibrant blue skies, and wind that reminds you of a sixteen-year-old boy’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, the amount of love this fic is getting is so great to me. I just...I can't get over it. 69 kudos, 13 bookmarks, 710 HITS?! I just...I'm so happy and thankful to all of you who are reading and enjoying story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. All of you are absolutely amazing. I've also made a writing blog which can be found at: http://www.lilcalwrites.tumblr.com and I'll be open to take requests and stuff so yeah! It's also where I'll be posting the updates to this fic. I'll also be tagging those posts with Cream To Your Coffee so yeah! Next chapter should be up sometime this week. I love you guys! Thank you so much for all your support.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John convinces Bro to hang out. Feelings ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes, you guys! I know I said I would have this out last week, but I kind of got swamped at work, so I hope the length will make up for it. I just want to say thank you to everyone who kudos'd and bookmarked and commented and the people that continue to read this and even that are checking it out for the first time. I'm so thankful to all of you, you guys have no idea how much this means to me! And to all of you tumblr users, sorry for spamming the brojohn tag with this every week. But seriously you guys, thank you so much. I love you. And I hope you enjoy this chapter. (I think this one is my favorite.)

You spend part of your day off trying not to think about blue-eyed brats and check through your emails and comments on your site. People are starting to get antsy. It’s been awhile since you posted anything new, but you have been keeping up with your orders so it’s not like there’s too much cause for alarm. You work on editing some of the material you already have, left over stuff you didn’t really feel like using before but always save for the times where you need to give people their fix. It ends up being ten minutes long, and you post some kind of sappy note about how sorry you are even though you’re really not sorry and the smart half of your fanbase will know that and the other half will appreciate the sentiment so everyone wins.

It soon becomes apparent that as much as you’re trying not to think about that boy with the glasses, you’re not doing a very good job of it. And you realize how much power he has over you. Not only can he make your life difficult at work, he can make your life difficult when he’s not even in the same building as you and that thought scares you enough that you look over your shoulder just to make sure he’s not there. You sigh with relief when you see the empty living room.

==>

You see John after your weekend. You’re not really surprised. The bag slung over his shoulder surprises you. He orders a hot chocolate. You ask if he wants whipped cream on it and he nods. When he pays for his drink, you expect him to leave like he always does. Instead he sits down at the one of tables and opens up his bag. He pulls out his laptop and fuck no. He’s actually going to be one of those people. You can hear Gamzee silently chuckling behind you. Whatever, at least he actually bought something and at least it’s not an Apple product. You glance in his direction every so often but become rather disappointed that he never looks up from his screen. Even when he takes sips of his drink, he’s still so absorbed in whatever he’s doing to even make eye contact with you. And the worst part is you can’t even talk to Gamzee about it because he’s right there. So instead you two just talk about music while cleaning off the counters in between customers and it’s when Gamzee mentions how pumped he is for your next gig that you feel eyes boring into your back. You smirk and talk loudly about how great being on the stage is going to be. His eyes never leave you as you move around the store and this time the tables are turned because now you’re the one who isn’t going to look at him. Even though you want to really badly if only to see what kind of look he’s giving you.

When the end of your shift is approaching you see him gathering up his things and leaving the store. He leans his back against the window and you know he’s waiting for you. Usually you can’t wait to get out of here as soon as your replacement comes, but today you take a bit more time finishing up your tasks just to watch the kid squirm. It hasn’t even been ten minutes and he’s already turned around, looking at you through the window, and glaring at you. When you’re done having fun taunting him from inside, you leave. You look in his direction and he follows you to your car. It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but whatever.

“Do you want a ride?” you offer. He rolls his eyes and is already tugging on the door handle and climbing into your car. You follow suit, ditching the apron and putting on your shades. “I didn’t realize we had another not date planned.”

He turns to you after putting on his seatbelt, “You were the one that said I can bother you at work.”

“Yeah… _at_ work. It’s after work now.”

“So? I waited for you.”

“And?”

“And maybe I just want to hang out with you when you’re not working. Since that doesn’t really qualify as hanging out.”

You turn toward him because yeah, that made a lot of sense and you have no idea how to respond to it and you kind of think he catches onto that because he just crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at you all smug. Little shit, you want to hate him so much.

“Okay then…did you have something in mind?”

“Yeah, actually. Could you bring me to the mall? I wanna see if they have a certain movie.”

You exhale a sigh through your nose as you start the car. You haven’t been to the mall in ages, and you can’t believe you got roped into going now. Of course you could have always told him to get lost but he did wait a long time. Besides, it's not like this is going to kill you or anything. You are on edge a bit though. He always seems to be planning something.

==>

You let him pull you to the movie store once you get to the mall. It doesn’t really bother you. It’s been so long since anyone pulled you anywhere and you kind of like the feel of his skin against yours. You pretend you don’t like it though, and let out a small sigh of relief once he drops your hand and starts looking at movie shelves. You follow behind him anyway for lack of anything better to do.

You hate to admit that he looks really cute flipping through movies and excitedly turning around and shoving them in your face, so you deny it completely and focus on less desirable things. Not that he was even that desirable in the first place. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in here, but you’re certain you’ve never heard this much about movies in your life. He seems to know everything about every movie he thrusts at you and you would find it endearing if you weren’t trying to lie to yourself, the kid makes it hard to do that though. Maybe you’re just going soft.

“What are you even looking for?” you finally ask. There are only so many plastic cases a boy can sort through before a man goes insane. He regards you for the first time without a movie in his hand.

“The new McConaughey. Well, I think it came out last year, but I’ve been dying to see it.”

“Why didn’t you just download it?” He looks at you like you told him you make a living setting kittens on fire. Right, wrong thing to say to a kid with a huge movie boner. “If you know what you’re looking for, why are you taking so long picking it out?”

He gives you a huge eyed stare, “Aren’t you enjoying spending time together?”

Your heart melts. You immediately soften and you have fight the urge to pick him up and just start kissing him all over because you’ve always seen him as more of a pain in the ass but right now he’s just too fucking cute it’s almost not fair. But, right you’re still doing that whole lying to yourself thing. That never stopped happening.

“I guess. What movie are you looking for, anyway?”

“ _Magical Marcus_ or something like that,” he says before going down another isle, and no he got the title wrong.

“You mean _Magic Mike_?” you call to him and he turns around grinning.

“Yeah! That’s what it was! Help me look for it?”

You don’t do much looking, seeing as you already know where to find it and when you do hold it out to him he looks at it like it’s the Holy Grail. In a way it is. The Holy Grail of shirtless dudes. He’s not even bothered by the cover when he takes it from you.

“This will complete my collection,” he breathes. You’ve never seen someone look so happy while looking at a movie covered in half naked dudes.

“If you’re even allowed to buy it,” you say. He looks away from the movie and up at you confused. He has no idea what this movie is about of course. “I’m pretty sure you have to be seventeen or eighteen to buy it.”

His grin falls, he looks dejected, and you feel bad for finding that cute too.

“I’ll buy it for you,” you offer. “Or pretend to be your guardian or whatever."

He makes a happy squealing noise as he lunges forward and wraps his arms around you. For a moment you stiffen. You’re not used to hugs. You can’t even remember the last time you hugged your own brother and suddenly this kid who gives you a hard time while you’re working thinks he can just hug you like this? You don’t push him off you though, you just wrap your arms around his shoulders and give him a tender pat on the back and then he’s pulling away from you, giggling and running up to the register and you follow behind him and you can feel your face is hot and why does this kid have to make your life difficult all the time.

Just as you thought there was an age restriction on the movie. The kid working behind the counter eyes you suspiciously when you tell him that you’re John’s guardian and it’s okay for him to buy it. John is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he hands the guy the money. He all but snatches the bag and tells the cashier to keep the change. He’s giggling the whole out the mall.

“This is so awesome! Thanks for bringing me,” he says really quickly as he buckles himself once he gets in the car. You grunt your response and before you say anything he leans across the center consul and kisses your cheek. It’s a quick action, and innocent, but it makes your cheeks burn and he giggles as you start the car and drive in the direction of his house.

It’s silent for about ten minutes and then he turns in his seat to look at you.

“So, what were you talking about with your coworker? About the gig thing?”

You almost burst out laughing. You were kind of wondering when he’d bring that up.

“I don’t just work at Starbucks, kid. That’s only my day job.”

“What else do you do then?”

It’s an innocent enough question. But you have to think of the answer. You decide to just…not lie exactly, but you only tell half the truth.

“I work as a DJ on weekends in different clubs. Been making my own music for as long as I can remember, but I’ve only started making money off of it for the last five years now. You’re looking at the number one DJ in Texas.”

“No fucking way. You’re _that_ Bro?”

“The one and only.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“Well, for one thing I didn’t think the famous Bro Strider would wear stupid anime glasses.”

“You obviously haven’t seen the famous Bro Strider. I wear these to gigs too, dude.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t wear them at all. Your eyes are really great.”

Your cheeks are definitely red now. And you have to actually fight to control yourself. He didn’t really just say that. You’ve heard that compliment before; worded a bit differently of course, but from John it does something different to you. Not different in a bad way. But the compliment has never given you butterflies before. You say nothing as you think about what this means and he doesn’t say anything either, probably more due to embarrassment.

==>

You pull into his driveway and he unbuckles his seatbelt and grabs his bag but doesn’t get out of the car.

“Do you want to come inside and watch it? My dad won’t be home for another couple hours.”

You want to say yes. But you just can’t, you know you can’t. Not just because of the content of the movie but just because you know that it will change everything if you do. You shake your head and regret it when you turn to him because he’s giving you that same sad look that he did in the movie store and it’s coming close to breaking your heart.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sighs in frustration, “Why are you being so difficult about this?”

“About what exactly? Is something taking place I should know about?”

“You’re so dumb. I obviously like you a lot.”

That stops you from any kind of comeback you were going to make. You’ve always assumed his feelings, it’s not like he hides them well. But saying them out loud makes it hard to ignore them and pretend they’re something else. You can’t pretend you don’t see them now. It changes everything.

“Look, kid-“

“Stop calling me that! You know my name.”

“Alright. _John_ , it’s really great you like me…but I don’t know where you think we can go with this. Even if I did return your feelings, it wouldn’t be right.”

“So you like me back?”

“I didn’t say-“

“You implied it though. You like me back.”

He sounds way too happy, and his grin is way too wide, and you have to give him some credit for figuring out that much. Maybe he didn’t figure it out at all; maybe you just suck at hiding your feelings from him. It wouldn’t be too far off from everything else he’s done. He has been the only one to ever get actual emotional responses from you, what with your constant back and forth at work. You should have known that there was some kind of playground instinct happening on both sides.

“Maybe I do but that’s not really the point I’m trying to make. The point is, it can never work. I’m too old to be sneaking around behind a parent’s back. You need someone your age. Someone you can share first time experiences with.”

“Well, I did give you my first kiss.”

You sigh. You’re not even going to touch that one, “Okay. But again that’s not the point. You can’t exactly bring me over to meet your father. Maybe when you turn eighteen or something.”

“But what does two years matter?”

“Because two years is the difference between whether or not I end up in jail. I’m sorry, John. I can’t. I appreciate it, but I can’t. I’ll see you when I’m at work, okay? We can hang out _in public_ when I get out. But that’s all I can give you.”

You can see a noticeable change in his happiness from when you admitted to liking him, but at least he’s not sulking so you guess that’s a good sign.

“Fine. But I’m going to prove you wrong.”

Before you ask him what that even means, he’s out of the car and shutting the door. You should have known. This kid never plays fair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly it's Take Your Parent to the Place You Hang Out Everyday Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a scene I have been excited to write since I decided to make this multi-chapter. I would also like to take this time and thank everyone who has contributed to this breaking 1000 views and 100 kudos. You have no idea how much it means to me, and to the 19 of you that have bookmarked you guys are the best and to the people leave comments, I give you special hugs. Because I love hearing from you guys! Okay, I'm ending this before it gets to sappy. Just thank you. Have an update!!

You see him all week and there isn’t any cause for alarm. You don’t let your guard down though. The way he said he’ll prove you wrong haunts you every time you drop him off. He liked _Magic Mike_ , he tells you casually. The only complaint he has is the lack of McConaughey. He also tells you how cool it would have been if you were there. You do yourself a favor and don’t dwell on the implications of that statement. When you drop him off he kisses your cheek and the action is innocent enough but the look he gives you is anything but and you’re nervous. You’re worried, and a little scared. You hate what this kid does to you.

==>

He comes in the next day and he’s not alone. His bag is slung over his shoulder as always but he’s in a lot earlier than usual. He’s with a man and it makes your stomach tight when you realize that John is a miniature version of him. The man’s mass of thick, black hair is hidden under the brim of a fedora you can tell he’s had since the first time they were considered cool, and you notice that some tuffs that stick out under it are speckled with grey. Unlike John, the man’s blue eyes aren’t obscured by the frames of glasses and the blue of his irises is dulled by years of life experience. He’s dressed to the nines in a well-tailored suit and you just know that his closet is full of them; he seems like the kind of guy to have a suit for every occasion. You can tell he doesn’t know what this is. But you do, and John’s smirking at you with an ‘I told you so’ gleam in his eyes. Gamzee is behind you and announces he’s going on break, you can hear the amusement in his tone. He leaves you alone behind the counter and watches from a nearby table.

“Good morning,” John’s dad says. His tone is chipper and light, and a lot different from John’s teasingly demanding one. He’ll be the nicest customer you have all day. You almost wish he wasn’t so polite; it would make this whole thing less awkward.

“Morning. What can I get for you?”

“Well, I don’t typically drink coffee, so I suppose one of your smoothies will hit the spot if it’s not too much trouble.”

You grab a cup and start making the drink as you wonder where he went wrong when raising John.

“Is Bro short for Broderick?” 

And now he’s making small talk? What charm school did this guy go to, and why wasn’t John enrolled in it?

“Yeah,” you lie and Gamzee snickers, John’s dad nods.

“Great name,” he says just before you start the blender. You are very aware of that John’s eyes don’t leave you and you ignore him out of spite. This is probably one of the more awkward moments of your life. You hand his dad the drink, and he takes it and sips it and for some reason you don’t look away from him. You’re anticipating his reaction; almost as if his acceptance of your skills as a barista is him accepting whatever you have going on with his son. The two are unrelated, and yet you find yourself leaning forward just slightly as he swallows. He smiles. “You’re a master at this. Probably one of the better drinks I’ve had in a long time.”

You let out a sigh through your nose. You feel a lot more relieved than you expected to be.

“Thanks. Should I start calling you a regular?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “No, there won’t be a need for that. Jonathan insisted I come here, and now I can see why. It’s good to know he’s paying top dollar for quality drinks.”

“And he’s always such a pleasure,” you lie again and Gamzee outright laughs and doesn’t even try to cover it up. The older man looks at your coworker with a tight brow, obviously confused but doesn’t question it.

“Well, I should be off now. Don’t want to be late. You have a good rest of your day, Broderick. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says and pays and insists you keep the change so you do. He and John leave, and you see them talking outside and eventually John’s dad leaves and John comes back into the store. Gamzee walks back behind the counter and John approaches, eyes honed in on you as he does so. You’ve never seen him look this determined since the day he came and kissed you, a shiver runs down your spine at the memory.

“I told you,” he says. And that’s all he says before he’s sitting down at his usual table and you get a rush of people so you can’t even respond. You don’t look at him again until the end of your shift. He’s packed up and waiting for you outside, and you grab him by the arm and lead him to the side of the building.

“What are you doing?” he protests and you drop his arm. Your pulse is racing and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “You’re acting really weird and it’s freaking me out.”

You grab him by the shoulders and bring him closer to you. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you press your lips against his before he can and he melts against you, his arms wrapping around your waist because that’s all he can reach and he kisses you back. It’s slow, and you can actually appreciate the softness of his inexperienced lips as he tries to keep up with your more experienced ones. He does a pretty good job of it until he bites your lip but you’re pretty sure that was an accident. That’s when you let him go and pull back, he tries to follow your mouth and you chuckle at him. He licks his lip and raises an eyebrow.

“What was that about?” he asks. You shrug and give him a small smirk.

“I figured I should reward you for being right.”

He full out smiles and your heart melts, “So does that mean you’re going to stop being dumb about the idea of us hanging out in private?”

You shake your head and he deflates.

“It means I’m not going to be as guarded as before. I still don’t exactly feel comfortable just hanging around your place, especially when your dad is actually a pretty nice guy. But, I’m more willing to let a few more things slide.”

He’s thoughtful for a little while, and he’s got some kind of mischievous look in his eyes that honestly really creeps you out.

“Does that mean I can go to _your_ place?”

Shit. For whatever reason you didn’t really think that would be an option, you honestly didn’t think he would want to. Of course you should have because it’s not really that surprising with the way he clings to you all the time. You’ve officially won the title of Stupidest Guy ever.

“I mean, I guess so. If you really want to we can do that one day.”

He perks up and grabs your hand and pulls you toward your car. You’re going to have to get used to him being a lot touchier with you.

“Great! We can go right now!”

You pale because you didn’t mean right now. And you tell him so, but he just scoffs and says there’s no better time because you might change your mind. And you curse him in your head because you wouldn’t have done that and you didn’t have time to clean and you haven’t been exactly honest with him about profession and shit. You’re panicking. You never panic, but you’re pretty sure you’re doing it now. He tugs impatiently at the door handle and you oblige him by unlocking it. You’re moving slower than usual and he has to notice because he’s giving you a look like he’s just done with your stalling. You start the car and you’re tempted to bring him home but you know he’d never let you live it down if you do. He’d probably come up with some revenge scheme that’s even worse than the stunt he pulled today.

The drive is filled with his excited ramblings and you nod along, but don’t really listen and he doesn’t catch on to your mood. You wish to all the gods and deities that your apartment is somehow clean by the time you get there. But you don’t hold your breath on it. Even if you did believe in them, they’ve never been on your side anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro and John have Show and Tell Day.

You pull up to your apartment building and he’s out of the car before you even unbuckle your seatbelt. He waits for you at the door and you open it, taking the steps up slowly and he’s trying to push you along but you only go slower just to torment him and it works because he groans and you laugh at him. You wish you would have cleaned. Even though you didn’t know he’d be coming over, it’s still making you nervous. The empty pizza boxes and take out containers have kind of started piling over the trashcan and well, some of your products are scattered about. You reach the door to your apartment and inhale as you open the door and walk in. He follows behind you and you hear his bag drop and when you turn around he’s just kind of gaping.

“Holy shit, you’re loaded,” is the first thing he says and you assume he’s looking more at your fancy equipment and video game systems than he is the trash that’s on the coffee table left over from last night, which is for the best you suppose, you know it’s been awhile since you cleaned up the place (or made Dave clean up the place). But then he makes a face of confusion and pokes at a nearby…product with his foot. Ah yes, you were wondering when he’d notice those. 

“Um…Bro?”

“Yes, John?”

“What is this?”

“A smuppet.”

“A what?”

You chuckle a little and sit down on the futon. He follows you.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you before. It’s true that I'm a DJ, and that I have been for a while. But the main source of my income is smuppets. Long story short, they’re puppets. They’re used for sex. I record them, and post the videos online, and perverts all over the country give me money. I am a renowned Porn God. I took up the job at Starbucks to give my little brother a normal life. In all actuality, I didn’t even need the job and could have quit years and years ago. But having a third source of income is nice and it helps pass the time between gigs.”

He’s completely speechless. You watch his mouth open and close but hear nothing coming out of it. You would find it funny if his opinion didn’t matter so much.  


“So these things are just scattered around the house? Like, you just leave sex toys lying around?”

You don’t say anything and he regards the smuppet again. It makes you nervous that you can’t read his expression. You knew he’d react like this but it does nothing to make you feel better about it. Finally he looks back at you, small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“This is it, right? No other freaky things to tell me?” he asks and you’re about to tell him no when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You don’t think John noticed because he’s still looking right at you. There’s another flash of movement and you sigh. Leave it to the guy to make this all about him. Conceited bastard, you should known he’d show up eventually.

“You’ve heard of my DJ act right?” John rolls his eyes with a nod. “Have you heard of my…business partner?” He raises an eyebrow and as if on cue, your puppet buddy appears in between you. John’s eyes widen in surprise and then look at you for an explanation.

“What is it?” he asks for the second time this afternoon, and you answer with a shrug.

“Meet Lil Cal, my best bro and partner in crime.”

“He’s a puppet.”

“You’re very observant.”

He’s silent for awhile and just kind of stares at Cal. You know he’s not sure how to react, and Cal isn’t either. It’s not every day you bring someone home in the middle of the afternoon, especially someone this young. You can tell Cal is already thinking of ways to mock you about this.

“Well, I guess he’s kind of cute,” John says but he still sounds unsure. It’s good enough for you, though. It’s a lot better than him not saying anything. You take the compliment, and Cal does too. You can practically feel the smugness coming off him. “Does he always just…appear?” John asks.

You shrug, “He comes and goes as he pleases. I’ve given up trying to understand it.”

John accepts the answer and as you settle down to watch a movie, Cal doesn’t leave. That’s fine with you, though it bothers you that he feels need to chaperone. As if you’d put the moves on a kid. Which you guess you already did but that was way different.

The movie watching is less of watching the movie and more John trying to move closer to you and you trying to get him to keep his hands to himself. It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but for some reason you’re more on edge in the apartment than you ever were in public. It feels like there are eyes all over the place and you know how crazy that is considering you’re on the tenth floor. But even as the credits roll, the feeling stays with you. You check the time on your phone and you have about an hour before you bro is due back home.

“I should bring you home, my bro’s gonna be here soon,” you tell him. He looks a little upset, and you feel kind of bad but there’s not really much you can do. You want to ease Dave into this, instead of having him come home to you and this kid just chilling. That’s the part that makes you so uneasy, the fact that John is a kid. And while you don’t think Dave would really care all that much it’s not completely lost on you how fucked up the situation is. This is a kid who, if he went to public school, would be your brother’s classmate.

“I’m kind of thirsty, you think I could get a drink before I go?” John requests, and that doesn’t sound so unreasonable. As you walk to the kitchen he heads towards the door and starts putting on his shoes. A glance in the fridge, and you grab one of Dave’s bottles of apple juice, it’s not like he’d notice if one was missing since you pretty much stock pile on it as if it’s going to one day disappear forever. By the time you get back to the living room, John is standing by the door with his shoes on and bag strapped to his shoulder. You offer him the bottle and he shakes his head.

“I haven’t been a fan of apple juice since I watched _Little Monsters_. Thanks though.”

You can feel your eye twitching but you just set the bottle down on the table. Dave will probably drink it anyway so it’s not like it’s wasted, and you probably should have asked if he liked apple juice in the first place. You put your shoes back on and grab your car keys and lead John out of your apartment, out of your building, and back to the street. He gets into your car silently, holding his bag to his chest and you’d think it was suspicious if you actually took the time to really care about it. What you find more suspicious is how he doesn’t say anything. He just got done hanging out with your puppet friend in an apartment covered in puppet dong and he’s as silent as a mouse and that scares you because you think maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe he finds you too weird. Being weird has never bothered you before, but that was when people you didn’t give a shit about were calling you weird. This is John. And as much as it scares you to admit, you actually care about his opinion of you. For a brief moment you think about how much easier your life would be if he just lost interest. You wouldn’t be risking looking like a pedophile to the eyes of everyone and your work life would go back to being mundane but as quickly as that thought comes, you mentally shake it out. You like the little bit of frustration John brings to your life. At least he does a good job keeping things interesting. Your worries are put to rest at least a little bit when you drop him off and he leans over to kiss your cheek. When he pulls away, he’s grinning.

“You didn’t put your stupid glasses on today,” he points out and then gets out of the car before you can properly say anything.

You can feel your cheeks turning hot as you begin the drive back home and mull this whole thing over in your head. You’re getting too comfortable too quickly with this kid. And eventually you’re going to have to put an end to it, before you can cross the line somewhere. When you get home, Cal is sitting where you left him. You plop down next to him and start flipping through channels. He asks if you and Pico had a safe for work drive, or if you’re going to invest in seat covers to hide the stains. You snort at his reference but don’t give him a response and he spends the rest of the time until Dave gets home trying to get your attention by calling you Mokkun. It’s never really bothered you that you’re the only one that can hear Cal. You’ve always felt that it’s one of those things where the little boy gives a voice to his favorite teddy bear. You’ve had Cal just as long, so it’s not really weird to you that you can still imagine him talking to you.

Sleep comes pretty quickly that night, and your last conscious thought is how excited you are to see John tomorrow. It should prove to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert more gushing about how happy the author is here. I love you all. Every single one of you. Thank you guys for making this fic really popular and just being awesome people. <3 You guys are the best readers I could have ever asked for.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is that...new rating?! And a new tag?! This was such an innocent fic a chapter ago...what could have possibly gone wrong?

John doesn’t show up the next day. Even if this isn’t the first time he hasn’t come by it worries more than ever. He hates you, you can’t help but think and that kiss yesterday was just one last parting gift and you’ll never see him again and it’s not fair he did that if this was his intent all along. As you’re about to curse him you feel the vibration of your phone and instantly become confused. No one texts you, except Gamzee and one of your old friends, but Gamzee is with you and she only texts you around Christmas to remind you that single mothers in New York need Striders in their lives too (her words, not yours). So curiously you pull your phone from your pocket and stare at ten digits you don’t recognize. The area code is familiar at least, but the seven digits that follow are lost to you. The text doesn’t help either, only reading one word.

bro.

A chill creeps up your spine. You show your phone to Gamzee, hoping he knows the number, but he just shakes his head. That’s even more worrying to you.

“You should just reply, dude,” Gamzee suggests and you look in his direction and back down at your phone.

“I don’t know…what if it’s like a stalker or something?”

He chuckled, “If all they got is your number then you don’t really have much to worry about unless they have a kind of tracking thing set up like police do or some shit. And they’d probably be camping out in the parking lot right now instead of keeping their distance.”

You know that’s supposed to make you feel better but surprisingly it doesn’t. You sigh and give in, writing a succinct Who is this? and then cleaning off some of the counter. Your phone vibrates not even a full minute later.

it’s john, you dummy.

You sigh in relief before turning to Gamzee, “It’s that kid.”

He laughs so hard his snorts sound like honks and he doubles over, and it’s not really that funny. You tell him so and he straightens out, you can still see the traces of his laughter as he tries to calm down but ends up giggling.

“It kind of is. You were getting all creeped out over a stalker when you didn’t even think to suspect the dude with the biggest boner for you.”

“Okay, sure. But this totally falls into stalking territory right? I didn’t even give him my number.”

“Ask how he got it.”

So you do. And once again, you get a reply before you can even fully get back to work. You and Gamzee are leaning against the back counter, and you’re holding your phone out so he can see the reply with you.

off your website? your djing one or whatever. you have a list of contact info. why would you put it there if you didn’t want people to contact you?

Gamzee laughs and you walk away from him. Okay, so the kid is smarter than you thought and obviously has pretty good Google skills. You really can’t be too surprised he was able to find your number, but a little warning would have been nice. Or he could have at least asked you himself. You’ll never understand this kid, and you think maybe that’s for the best. You don’t really want to know how his mind works. You type out your reply.

Okay. I’m going to ignore how creepy it is you didn’t just ask me and instead ask you what you want.

i couldn’t take the chance you’d give me a fake number.

Why would I have given you a fake number?

i don’t know! anyway, it’s not important. i want to show you something.

You raise an eyebrow even though he can’t see it and he sends you a picture. You click on the thumbnail and immediately turn red. You hold your phone closer to you even though there’s no one behind you and tell Gamzee you’re going to the bathroom, he gives you a salute punctuated with a wink but you don’t have time to worry about that right now.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you lock it and the button of your pants comes undone and you pull the zipper down. You walk the short distance to the toilet and stand over it. Your hand slides down and you palm yourself through your boxers as you slide your phone open again to get a better look at the picture he sent you.

The picture he sent you was more than likely meant to be innocent. You don’t see it that way, but that’s just proof of how fucked up you are more than anything. He’d somehow managed to sneak one of your products out from under you and now it makes sense why he wanted you to leave the living room. You should be mad, but instead you’re a bit (a lot) excited that he decided to share with you. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect color either. Orange is your favorite. In his picture he’s holding the smuppet to his face and placing a chaste kiss to the tip of its nose. Your eyes hone in on his lips, you know how soft, plump, and wet they are and you imagine the small dabs of saliva soaking into the felt. You imagine that they’re kissing what that nose represents and rub harder, biting your lip to muffle your groan.

It’s about now that you realize it’s been too long since your last text. You pause the hand down your pants long enough to type out something passive aggressive because there’s no way in hell you’re going to let on that you enjoyed that way more than you should have.

You stole valuable merchandise, pretty ballsy. I’m going to have to charge you for it though.

The next reply he sends plants so many ideas in your head.

what if i put on a show that’s worth the money?

You breath hitches and fuck do you want to take him up on that offer, age be damned.

What exactly did you have in mind?

His response comes in the form of another picture and you click the thumbnail to make it bigger more eagerly than you should have and this next one has you pulling the waistband down on you boxers and your dick out in the open, pumping fast.

His mouth is open this time, the smuppet straight up in his hand and his tongue to the underside. His eyes are half lidded and you can see the pupil looking right at you (that was probably more to make sure the picture would come out right but you’re going to pretend he did it on purpose). And it’s so mild, so innocent compared to anything he could do with it, what you want to see him do with it. But shit, he might not have any idea. You should teach him. Fuck yeah, you’ll teach him how to properly work that smuppet, show him where it goes and what happens when you have it hit just the right spot. Your hand goes faster, breath coming out in pants as you focus on his tongue. You haven’t felt that yet, but you imagine it’s hot and wet and inexperienced and you should show him how to use that too. Inexperience has never been a huge turn on for you but John wears it so well and makes it look so pretty.

You cum into the toilet when you make indirect eye contact and the sound you make is a low grunt that’s hopefully covered by the toilet flushing. The post-orgasm bliss kicks in as you tuck yourself back into your pants and you feel young. Not that you’re particularly old, but jerking off in the bathroom at work could have that effect, you guess. You stand in front of the sink looking at yourself in the mirror. No wrinkles, no crow’s feet, no receding hairline, not even a grey hair is in sight. You could easily pass as a twenty-year-old and maybe that’s why there are no looks when you and John walk around together. Because four years is a lot different than fourteen and out of the corner of your eye you see the sign reminding you that employees must wash their hands before returning to work. As you scrub your hands with a lot more soap than necessary, you see lines on your face you didn’t notice before. You splash water on it, and they’re gone, but the young feeling you just had leaves with them. There’s nothing separating you from _them_ no matter how much younger you appear. Looks can be deceiving after all. You step out of the bathroom and Gamzee looks surprised to see you, like he forgot you were here.

“How’s the bathroom?” he asks, and you know he doesn’t mean it mockingly, but you can’t help taking it any other way.

“Clean,” you lie.

Because it’s not. And neither are you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want it to be known that I wrote this entire chapter in between customers at work (I'm a cashier, at Walmart of all places) and in the break room and it's really hard to not think about it all day, let me tell you. As always, I hug all of you for continuing to read and comment and all that fun stuff. I hoped you enjoyed Two Update Week, I don't know if it'll happen again. Also, this chapter is dedicated to AO3 user andiii for suggesting the "John Steals a Smuppet" idea and then letting me steal it. (When you've finished this, go check out A Poorly Executed Plan. It's wonderful, and so is she)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author makes up for the angst in the previous chapter

When you check your phone after work you aren’t surprised to see you have missed messages. It appears John took your silence to be negative, and you suppose you should have sent some kind of reply to him once you got the picture but it’s not your fault you were distracted. You send him a quick apology and assure him that he did nothing wrong. Then he asks to see you. He says he’s sick, and that’s why he didn’t come today, but there’s still hours before his dad is due back home from work. He wants you to come over. You have no idea how to respond. Yesterday you had him over at your place, and that ended up being fine. But after what happened in the bathroom, you’re not sure you trust yourself anymore. You’re typing out an excuse and it’s like he reads your mind because his text just says please and you erase everything you were going to say and instead just say okay. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

==>

It takes you ten minutes to drive to his house, and you make sure to put your shades on before you go in. When you get to the door, you knock and a few minutes go by before it opens and John is standing in front of you looking pale and wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey,” he says weakly and you smile as he moves aside to let you in. His house is much nicer than your apartment, which you could already tell just from the outside but inside is even more magnificent. Every surface is clean and everything has its place. There’s not a piece of garbage anywhere, and the only mess is on the table and those are just dishes. John leads you further into the living room where you sit on the couch and instead of sitting next to you like a normal person he sits on you without even asking if he could. He keeps his blanket wrapped tightly to his small frame and curls into your lap, forehead against your neck and you can feel the heat from his head. He’s sicker than you thought and he nuzzles against you.

“Why didn’t you look sick in the pictures you sent?” You ask and he chuckles quietly.

“I took those last night. Just kind of playing around. But Dad brought home dinner for the first time in forever and I got food poisoning. Needless to say we won’t be eating take out for awhile.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And he just went to work and left you here?”

He smiles against your neck, “I insisted he go. I was hoping you’d come over. And you did.”

John shifts, and he looks at you. But you wince, and you hope he doesn’t notice because you can’t make eye contact. There’s no way you can look into those blue eyes and not think about the picture he sent you. You can’t even touch him, the only reason there’s any contact going on is because he’s sitting on you and you’re doing a pretty good job of keeping your hands to yourself. You can’t help but think this was a mistake, you shouldn’t be here, and it’s too soon. And then you feel wetness against your cheek. You swallow and chance a look at him and immediately avert your eyes.

“What was that for?” you ask, and you hear him giggle and you wish it didn’t have an effect on you.

You feel him shrug, “You seem really tense or something, almost like you were freaking out.”

You can’t argue with that.

==>

He puts on some movie on and you stay with him until it ends. You tell him you need to leave; you have some orders to finish. It’s a lie of course you’re just not sure you can handle being here anymore. You’re amazed you even made it this long. He walks you to the door, although you can tell he’s upset to see you go. When you open the door he tugs on your shirt and when you turn around, he gets on the tip of his toes he kisses your cheek again. You ruffle his hair and tell him to get better. You still don’t look at him.

Your phone rings, and you recognize the number as one of the club owners. He’s telling you he wants to play a gig during the weekend and he apologizes for the short notice. You agree, and slip your phone back in your pocket as you continue driving home and try not to think about the pictures saved on your phone or the blue eyed boy that insists on making your life difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this is you guys, and how rushed it feels! I'm going to a con this weekend and I wanted to get a chapter up before then. I promise the next one will be longer and better paced. Thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. I feel so bad. D:


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author puts off the inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about last week you guys. I hope this makes up for it. <3

John gets better, and it becomes easier for you to look him in the eyes again. You still haven’t deleted the pictures even though you know you should. You’ve tried to, but you always back out at the last minute with the thought of when you’ll ever get a picture like this again. It’s not every day someone you’re interested in poses with a smuppet. You shouldn’t be interested in him and you shouldn’t care, but it’s enough to keep your thumb away from the delete button. You strife with Dave after to stop thinking about it. You don’t spend time with him at his house, and you don’t bring him to the apartment. Those are the only rules you’ve been able to hold your ground on, much to his annoyance. Every time you turn down his offer he looks like he’s going to try arguing with you but he never does. Instead he suggests things like movies or lunch and it borders on what others might consider a date. Each time you drop him off, he kisses you on the cheek or forehead. You haven’t been able to stop him from doing that and you don’t really want to.

You don’t tell him about your gig because it’s not any of his business but for whatever reason it makes you feel guilty. Gamzee helps you the day of, moving all your equipment into the building and setting it up in the DJ booth. You have no idea what to say to him when he asks you how things are going with the kid. Using those words doesn’t make you feel any less creepy.

You shrug and plug in a wire, “It’s not really going? I don’t know the whole thing feels juvenile.”

He snorts, “How appropriate.”

“No I mean…I don’t know. It’s like, he’s pretty cool as far as kids go. And if he were legal I totally would have fucked him by now, but the fact remains that he’s—“

“He’s not.”

“Exactly. So eveything’s creepy. I know he likes me, kid is so obvious about everything. But he just doesn’t get that even if it’s mutual, nothing could ever happen.”  


“Have you ever directly told him to step off?”

You think for a minute, “Well no.”

“There it is! Man, with kids you can’t beat around the bush. You gotta be straight up with what you want and shit. Don’t worry, dude we’re gonna find you some legal ass to mack on.”

You snort and finish setting up as you contemplate that. You hadn’t really thought about moving on at all because let’s face it; there’s nothing to move on from. The attention is nice too. But even more than that, you like him. He’s dorky and a handful, but he's cute too and has this way of making you feel all warm and fuzzy. You like how he laughs in away that almost sounds like he’s giggling and you like how his smile shows all his teeth and how it brightens his eyes without it looking silly, but when he does something he thinks is funny he has this goofy grin that you like too. It makes you wish he was at least two years older, especially when he poses with your smuppets because that picture still effects you the same way even days later. But Gamzee’s promise of what’s to come is teasing to you. He knows your type well enough that you know you’re in good hands, but what happens when John finds out? You don’t even want to think about that conversation just as much as you don’t want to admit you’ll miss him.

==>

Gamzee comes into the DJ booth with two drinks and hands you one. Holding it to your mouth you can smell the alcohol in it and you just know he requested the bartender, Cronus, make it strong.

“I found a guy,” he says as you finish the drink and set the empty glass down. You’re not really concerned about pacing yourself tonight.

“That was fast.”

He grins, “Don’t sound so surprised. You know how I am.”

You roll your eyes, “So where is he? Who even is he?”

“He’s over at the bar, I talked to him for a bit with Cronus. His name is Jake and he just got back from some yearlong expedition doing whatever. But get this. So I tell him, I say ‘the big man is gonna want to have a chat with you,’ and that fucker says, ‘there’s no man too big for me,’ and then fucking winks! He even caught Cronus off guard with that. It was motherfucking beautiful.”

“Alright, well hold down the fort with Cal I guess.”

He salutes as you set up your computer to go on your playlist and leave the booth. The crowd parts for you, people yell offers to buy you drinks, the more gutsy and drunk come up to you and offer something else. You brush them off on your way to the bar, spotting Cronus talking to a mess of black hair that makes your heart stop before you remember John isn't old enough to be here, and certainly not old enough to be drinking at the bar.

“There he is! Mister man of the hour in the flesh,” Cronus greets you loudly as you sit down in the stool next to Jake. You take in his appearance. He looks tall, fairly muscular, and you can see a bit of a tan. You’ll have to thank Gamzee if this works out. Then he turns to you and your heart skips a beat before kicking into overdrive. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down and get over the fact that you’re staring at John’s fifteen years older self. And shit he still looks good. That’s ridiculous of course, John isn’t a time traveler and you know science hasn’t advanced as far as cloning humans. That means you’ve hit as close to the jackpot as you can hope to get. You can’t see the color of his eyes, but with the way the light reflects off his face you can tell he has glasses.

“Greetings! You must be the famous Bro I’ve been hearing about,” he’s got a slight accent and it doesn’t turn you on the way his looks do. Instead it shatters the illusion. You now have to make a conscious effort to think of him as his own person. You look back to Cronus and you know he reads the look on your face because he dips under the counter and pops back up with a glass. You turn back to Jake, but watch Cronus out of the corner of your eye and you know he puts in more alcohol than what most consider acceptable. He slides the drink across to you, and you sip it before answering.

“Sup,” you offer as a greeting. You can feel the alcohol warming your bloodstream already.

He dives right into the conversation and you sip your drink and try to keep up. His conversations aren’t linear, he switches topics quickly and you think maybe you should be sober. You can hardly get a word in edgewise. He’s nothing like John, who gives you openings and hangs off your every word like your opinion is the Holy Grail. Cronus keeps your drinks coming as quickly as you finish them, you make a mental note to thank him for that some time.

You can tell your playlist is nearing the end and you cut him off.

“You wanna come up to the booth?” you ask and he actually stops and his mouth hangs open.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You want to see the DJ booth? I do have a job to do and it would suck losing you in the crowd later.”

Honestly, you wouldn’t care either way but there’s no sense passing up a guaranteed lay.

“Well, alright! Sounds like a grand adventure!”

You lead him back through the crowd and everything’s a lot more blurry than earlier. You couldn’t feel the alcohol much sitting down, but now that you’re standing and trying to walk you’re glad Gamzee offered to be the designated driver. The walk back feels endless.

When you finally get back up to the booth Gamzee is eying you with approval. Jake is looking out at the crowd like an excited dog before sitting on a stool and taking the drink Gamzee offers him. With your two-person audience in close proximity you feel confident. Alcohol has always done a good job of making you even more of an attention whore. You grab the mic and shout to the crowd that they’re beautiful. The drunken cheers in reply fuel you as you mix, getting more into it the more you look out at the swirling mess below you. They love you, and in your alcoholic haze you love them too.

You’re very much aware Jake’s eyes don’t leave you, but it’s confirmed when you look to where he and Gamzee sit. Gamzee’s keeping Cal entertained so he doesn’t notice, but Jake blushes and holy shit averts his eyes. It’s the first thing he does that reminds you so much John and you feel your pants tighten. You imagine he has blue eyes.

Now that you know for sure you’ve caught his attention, you let yourself become more animated to make sure you don’t lose it. You make a show of moving your hips in time with the music and you don’t have to turn your head to know his eyes are drinking it up. The alcohol makes it easy to forget that he’s not really John, but that doesn’t stop your imagination anyway. When John turns eighteen you’re going to bring him here and perform for him. Just you and him in the booth and maybe you’ll set that show to a playlist because there’s something else you want to do with him up here that wouldn’t be able to wait until you get home, and it’s not like anyone can see you up here anyway. You turn your head as Jake laughs at something Gamzee said. You can’t help but think it’s loud, _too loud_ and it doesn’t have the same kind of innocence you hoped for.

==>

By the time your set is done you’ve lost count of the number of drinks you've had, and you’re sitting on the floor watching Gamzee and Jake load your equipment back into your car. On Jake’s last trip, Gamzee stops him and says something in his ear. They high five, you giggle to yourself. Gamzee comes up to you and slumps down next to you, handing you Cal and you sling one of his puppet arms around your neck.

“So…you gonna tap that? I saw him eying you all motherfucking night.”

You shrug, “I don know”

“You don’t know?”

You make a whimpering noise and slip further onto the floor.

“He’s not John,” you whine. Gamzee is looking at you bemused and Cal just laughs.  


“I thought that was the point.”

“It is. I just…I want John so bad, Gamzee. He’s so cute, you know? And Jake is so obvisly not him.”

“If you want John, then text him and invite him over and we’ll bring Jake home.”

You roll over onto your stomach and throw your arm over his legs.

“Oh my god, Gamzee. I can’t do that. He’s fuckin’ sixteen,” you lower your voice to a whisper. “Do you know how bad that ish?”

Gamzee joins Cal in laughing at you.

“Then what are you complaining about?”

“I’m sayin’ you can order from the menuuu, but you can’t look at it.”

“What?”

“You know. When you’re at the restrant just browsin’ and the waitress says it’s time to order but you don get the thing you acktally want, you go fer the healthier thing ‘cause you’re watchin’ your figure.”

Gamzee has no idea what you’re talking about. You’re not sure you do either.

“So are you going to fuck Jake?”

You sigh dramatically and use his legs to help push you up, “I guess so.”

“Shit man, don’t make it sound like a chore.”

“It is. It’s like washin’ dishes when all I wanna do is play doctor.”

“I’ve never heard a thirty year old man sound so upset about having to sleep with another thirty year old man.”

“Well, now you’ve seen pigs fly in the frozen tundra of hell, you dick.”

He grins and helps you stand all the way. It takes you a little bit of wobbling before you’re able to walk to the car with Gamzee’s assistance. He helps you into the front seat and the second he shuts the door you fish your phone from your pocket. No texts from John. Well fine, that’s fine. You text him the whole way to your apartment even though you know logically he’s asleep. When Gamzee pulls into the apartment lot, you put your phone away. John didn’t talk to you today. Fine. That’s just fucking fine. You don’t need him anyway. Jake’s here for a reason.

The last coherent thought you have is how good of a friend Gamzee is for helping you inside.

==>

“Bro!” someone shouts. They’re so far away, though, that you don’t even think it’s real. You make a noise of protest and swat the air in the direction it came from.

“Don’t give me that shit, Bro. We have a fucking problem.”

You groan and open an eye. You see your bro standing over you and he looks pretty peeved. You grunt again. That’s the most he can get from you right now.

“Okay, since you’re being a caveman I’m going to have to spell it out for you. I don’t care if you bring guys home. Not really the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. But you kept me up all night with your fucking and now your booty call is in the fucking kitchen half naked making fucking pancakes as if that shit’s cool. If I wanted a daddy, Bro, I would have put on my tightest dress and highest heels and stood on the fucking corner.”

“What?” you ask hoarsely. Your throat is really dry; you should probably get a glass of water. He’s not too impressed with your question and he releases a heavy sigh.

“John is in the kitchen, making pancakes acting as if I totally didn’t just hear you guys getting it on. Seriously how is it possible for old people to go that long?”

“WHAT?” you sit up in bed so fast that you almost give yourself motion sickness and your head starts throbbing. You don’t really care about that though because there’s no possible way John is the kitchen. You don’t even remember talking to him last night. You hardly remember coming home. You remember black hair and you look to your bedside table, and shit those are glasses. You throw the blankets off you and Dave is impressed with your decision to hurry. He’s acting so cool about this, about you being a borderline pedophile and you think maybe you raised him a bit too well. You go to walk and nearly fall back over when you try to take a step.

“God damn my ass hurts,” you say to no one. But of course, Dave doesn’t let you off the hook. You wouldn’t have let him off easy either.

“No shit, asshole. That’s what happens when a dude puts his dick in your ass for like three hours.”

You give him a look, and start limping to the kitchen and you can hear his snickers the whole way. You round the corner to the kitchen, already thinking of an excuse and oh that’s not John. Jake is standing at the stove in his boxers and it’s just then you realize you’re about to have one of the weirder conversations of your life naked in your kitchen with your younger brother behind you. He turns to you, and grins broadly. It does something weird to his face and he just looks creepy. _Not John_.

“Good morning, old sport. Figured I’d treat you to breakfast.”

Dave nudges you forward and you can feel his glare.

“Uh, that’s okay. Um-“

“Nonsense! I insist. It’s the least I could do since you let me bunk with you last night.”

“About that-“

“It’s quite alright. You were a little under the influence when we met so I’ll let it slide this time, but remember my name is Jake. Though John and Jake are similar so I suppose it was an easy mistake.”

His accent his thick, and his voice is loud, _too loud_ and does nothing to quell your headache at all. It lacks the softness that John’s voice has, and it’s then you remember why you drank so much in the first place and that just makes your head release more throbs.

“Look, you really don’t have to make breakfast. You’re actually kind of freaking my bro out and-“

“Paper thin walls, buddy. _Paper thin walls_ ,” Dave seethes from behind you. Jake blinks (green eyes. Not blue. Another tally to the ‘Not John’ column) and the laugh he produces hits you like a ton of bricks right in your head.

“Well, then I do say we should keep this short then,” he turns the stove off and drops the spatula and leaves the kitchen. You’ll deal with the mess later when your brain isn’t trying to split your head apart.

Jake collects his things, and leaves you his number, which you put in your phone out of courtesy. You stomp back to your room now that your brother’s needs have been satisfied. You flop onto it and breathe in the smell of your pillows before the text alert noise pulls you away.

wow. that’s an interesting thing to wake up to.

Oh god, you had texted John? You hardly remember doing that and when you scroll up you cringe. Even with the typos you can tell what you were trying to say, and you’ve never sounded so desperate in your life. You actually told him you need him at one point and that you want him so bad you could cry. And then you followed it up with saying- _oh_ oh wow.

Sorry about that. Got a bit drunk last night.

so that’s all it was then? you didn’t mean any of it?

You can feel the disappointment in his words. You can picture the downcast look on his face. This is the hardest thing you’ve had to say, and you aren’t even saying it out loud.

No. Just drunk words. Sorry you were on the receiving end.

it’s okay. so are you busy today? we can hang out?

You want so badly to tell him yes.

I’m not busy, but I don’t feel much like doing anything. Nursing a hangover Satan delivered to me himself. But we’ll hang out tomorrow. I promise. I’ll buy you ice cream or something.

okay! :D

You’re happy that made him happy and when you set your phone down, you see Cal sitting on the end of your bed. He asks you if you’re going to punish John for dropping ice cream on your car seats. You throw a pillow at him, and drift off to sleep. You dream of the ocean, and the soft breeze whispering to you as you sail along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha i can't write Jake to save my life. Also, all typos in Dirk's talking when he was drunk were intentional. I tried to think of words I have difficulty saying when I'm under the influence how they sound when I do try to say them!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought you by the letter 'F' for feels.

You spend the rest of the day after your nap making Dave take care of you. He complains loudly the whole time, but deep down you know he’s happy to hang out with you. You’re happy to spend time with him too; you hadn’t realized how long it had been. The next day you go to work feeling a bit more refreshed and not limping at all, thank god. You weren’t really sure how you’d explain that to Gamzee, or John for that matter and it was just one less thing you’d have to deal with. When the kid comes in and orders and then sits at his usual table, Gamzee gives you a look and shakes his head. You’re not really sure what he wants you to say for yourself and you feel like a child being scolded by a parent. It’s not like you can control John anyway.

“So what happened with Jake?” Gamzee asks, voice hushed in a whisper. You doubt John can actually hear, but you appreciate the caution.

“I’m pretty sure I let him plow me so hard I forgot who John was,” you reply just as quietly. “For the night anyway.” You don’t tell him that you actually called Jake by John’s name in the middle of sex because as far as your concerned if you don’t remember it didn’t happen. You wish that logic applied to everything else.

Gamzee just grins, “That’s a good start though, right?”

You glance over at the kid who sips innocently from his iced latte and types at his computer, small smile on his lips directed at the screen.

“Sure,” you say eventually. “Baby steps.”

==>

“We don’t have to get ice cream,” John tells you when you meet him outside. “We can get actual food. You must be hungry after working all day.”

You shake your head, “Nah. This is for you. I was an asshole over the weekend. Gotta make up for it.”

He gives you an incredulous look, “You weren’t an asshole. A lot of people get drunk and say things they don’t mean. I’ve seen it all the time in movies.”

You try to ignore how his eyes don’t look as bright when he says that, and make a move to grab your shades to make it even easier that you didn’t notice his change in mood. Glasses on, you back out of the parking lot and mentally slap yourself when you remember that he doesn’t know the other thing you did and feel guilty because you have no plans to tell him anytime soon. The guilt is starting to slowly pick at you, for even doing it at all. You’re sure it would make you feel better if you just told him, but you can’t. Because it’s none of his business. You have no reason to care like this, and he would have no reason to care that you did it. But you stop yourself from telling him and just deal with it internally because that’s better than risking the chance in never seeing him again.

“It’s fine, kid. I don’t mind.”

“Okay well if you’re sure. I was just saying because I won’t be able to hang out as long today.”

The news gets rid of some of the guilt but replaces it with disappointment as you pull into the parking lot of the ice cream place, a little no name building with some of the best ice cream you’ve ever had. You used to bring Dave here all the time; back when he had a sweet tooth and it occurs to you that it’s been forever since you’ve been here. It still looks the same, though some of the colors in the paint have faded. There’s a plump older lady that greets you happily when you come up to the window and asks what you want, you reply that you don’t want anything and John looks at you with a furrowed brow, but returns back to the woman and orders a large cone in chocolate-vanilla swirl soft serve that you remember Dave used to like too. He waits for it patiently enough, but greedy hands go to reach for it once it’s offered through the window. He takes it in his hands, and gives it a long lick that totally doesn’t make you ache in any kind of wanting at all, and leads you over to the edge of the parking lot where there’s a grass area surrounded by trees and benches spread out. He sits in a bench at the top of where the area kind of inclines and there’s acres of trees in between the spot and the distant spec of the country club. You can make out people playing golf, but you can’t really tell much else. John sits happily next to you, licking his ice cream and trying to avoid it dripping down his hand without much success. You try and fail to not be distracted by the movements of his tongue.

“So, why do you have to be home early today?” You decide to ask when it becomes obvious that the only way to not get distracted is to stop him from eating the ice cream.

“Oh, I have a piano recital coming up in a couple weeks and my dad wants me practicing more often to make sure I’m on top of my game. Of course, he’ll be proud of me no matter what happens, but I really want to do well too.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. You didn’t even know he played an instrument, let alone so competitively and seriously. It doesn’t sound like he’s in it just for the recognition either. He seems like he really enjoys it.

“How long have you been playing for?”

He takes a few licks of his ice cream and his face kind of screws up in concentration.

“I’m not really sure. It’s been awhile though. My mom used play for me all the time. She would sit me down in her lap and just play random songs for me, sometimes she would sing. This was back when I was baby, so I don’t remember too much about her. She died when I was five, and I’ve been playing since around then though I can’t remember exactly when I started.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gaping at him. You’ve never heard him talk about his past before, and you’ve never really opened up to him either. He sounded so nonchalant about it, but you can’t fault him for that since he was so young when it happened. Still though, you can’t help feeling a little sad for him. You know what it’s like to lose a parent after all. You’ve lost both.

“How did she die?”

He holds the ice cream away from his mouth, carefully holding it down in his lap. He stares out into the distant green of the golf course trying not to meet your eyes. You’ve turned toward him in interest now.

“Car accident, drunk driver hit her. From what my dad tells me she died on the way to the hospital. I always regret not giving her a proper goodbye, but there’s no way I could have known. I started playing piano around then as away to feel closer to her or something…and Dad’s been kind of protective of me since. I think we moved around so much so he’d be able to forget it. Out of sight, out of mind you know? But I know he still thinks about her. I haven’t seen him with anyone else. I hope he meets someone new soon,” his words trail off and he stops himself before he continues babbling about his dad. 

Silence falls over the both of you as you take in everything he told you. He bites worriedly on his lip and you just stare at him in awe, unsure of whether you want to hold him or offer verbal comfort but he’s probably heard everything as far as that goes. Instead you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently, which gets him to smile before he looks down as his forgotten ice cream. Immediately his smile is replaced with a look of scorn. His hands are covered with melted ice cream and he scrambles to eat it, complaining he should have gotten napkins, he always forgets napkins. When he gets it under control he looks at you, you’re not sure what he’s waiting for but you swallow nervously. It’s silent for a while longer, opening your mouth and closing it repeatedly. You’ve never opened to anyone that wasn’t Cal. You figure you’ll start small. Baby steps.

“Dirk,” you say finally. He looks at you confused. “My name, my _real_ name is Dirk.”

It’s his turn to look in awe at you.

“But why do you go by bro?”

You shrug, “My parents died when I was little, and I cut myself off from everyone. As my little brother grew up, he only called me bro so I kind of stuck with it. He was a year old when they died.”

He looks really sad, and you feel pretty sad too. It’s been awhile since you’ve talked about any of this and you never thought you would with anyone that wasn’t already involved. But it feels nice.

“Did you have to be in foster care?”

“Nah, we were able to avoid it. There was this woman that lived in the apartment next to us with her kid and they looked enough like us that everyone thought we were related anyway. Lived with her for a few years until I was eighteen and my business took off, and I packed up Dave and moved out. Business is still booming so I guess I got lucky.”

He giggles. You try not to focus on how much you like the sound, because at least the conversation is getting happy.

“How does that even get picked up anyway? Where do you market for something like that?”

“Well…it started as a joke, wasn’t really expecting it to take off. I made a couple different models and made some videos and set up a website, then went to one of those porn conventions to kind of…promote it. I think more people were drawn to how young and attractive I was than the actual product, but I got a lot of hits on my site after that and the rest is history.”

He’s finished the mush of ice cream and bites into the cone with a smile.

“You’re still pretty attractive,” he says after he swallows the bit of cone he ate. Your cheeks feel warm, and you hope your shades block out at least a bit of the red that is in no doubt tinting your cheeks. It’s the first time he’s ever actually came out and _said_ anything about your looks and you’re not sure how to respond. His crunching into the cone fills the silence until he finishes it, and announces he should probably get going home. You both stand from the bench and walk back to your car. The ride home is filled with him talking about past recitals he’s been in, the songs he’s practicing, and you listen and interject with questions to keep him talking. The conversation flows, and it’s hardly anything but one sided unlike your conversations with Jake. And even more unlike them, you actually care about what John is talking about. When you park in his driveway you beat him to the punch and kiss him on the cheek and ruffle his hair.

“What was that for?” John asks, but his tone is happy despite looking surprised. You shrug.

“Just wanted a change of pace. Don’t get used to it.”

He grins before grabbing his bag and getting out of the car, waving to you quickly and then running into his house. You make your way back home; mind a complete mess as it flip-flops between wanting John, and wanting your feelings for him to go away. It’s not normal, and that thought makes you laugh to yourself because when have you ever cared about what was normal. But that was different; this is the first time your abnormality would land you in jail. So you grip the steering wheel and steer your thoughts elsewhere. The moment you get back to your apartment you text Jake, and find he’s a better conversation partner this way. He asks about what you do for work other than DJing and you tell him everything except for the smuppet thing. You like when people find out about that on their own. He seems surprised that you work at Starbucks, and promises to visit sometime soon which makes your stomach clench because that’s John’s territory. You don’t say anything other than it would be cool. He asks if you would like to hang out, he can come over. Reluctantly you agree and tell him to come over after Dave goes to bed around ten. You set your phone aside after that and sigh, looking at your ceiling and wonder why you feel as though you’re sneaking around behind John’s back. Cal is quick to tell you that it’s because you are. You glare at him and kick him to the floor. 

He’s wrong, you tell yourself. You’re not sneaking around and you’re not cheating because there’s no relationship between you and John other than mutual feelings. That doesn’t make you boyfriends, so you’re allowed to do whatever you want. Even if it’s something you don’t really want to do. You tell yourself you’re not wrong even as you greet Jake at the door and let him into your room for the second time. You tell yourself this is right as his experienced lips kiss your experienced lips, and it’s so different from the two kisses you shared with John. Jake can keep up when the kiss deepens and even initiates the inclusion of tongue. You’re a little disappointed that he knows what he’s doing, not that you’re into the whole inexperience thing completely but it’s something you really like about John. You have to remind yourself the whole night not to think about John.

You fail pretty miserably at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I am going to gush about how much I love you guys. You're all really awesome and patient people and I want to hug you all. That being said, I don't know if I'll be able to update next week. Hopefully it'll work out and I can, but I'll be moving into my new apartment and I'm not sure when we'll set up Internet. But I will do my best to make sure it'll go over smoothly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you like some drama with that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that it's been so long since the last update you guys! I was moving into my place and it's been pretty crazy getting everything settled in and this chapter isn't as long as I hoped it would be, but I hope it makes up for the absence. The next chapter will be up soon. Thank you all for hanging tight <3

Jake is still lying next to you when your alarm goes off in the morning. It doesn’t seem to wake him and you’re thankful for that. You wish he were gone like he had been the other day. That would have made everything a lot easier to forget. Experiencing it sober was different, and not in a good way. You could feel how heavy he was pressed against you, and he knew what he was doing. There was no hesitation in his movements, no wonder at being touched for the first time, no discovery of each other. You decide you didn’t miss much from the first time, if this is what he’s like. Usually sex helps in your quest to like someone, even if they have no other redeeming qualities, but you’ve never been so disinterested in someone that the sex makes them worse.

You climb out of bed and feel gross in more ways that just the obvious. As you walk to the bathroom you think maybe you’re not being fair to the guy. He hasn’t really had a fair chance in the first place, and it’s even worse now. But you could try a little harder, you think. Actually put effort into getting to know him. However, it’s becoming increasingly obvious and hard to ignore how much he’s the exact opposite of what you want. You want John and his inexperience, his smile at pretty much everything you do or say. You want to teach him things. And even more than that, you want to be his first everything. You realize how greedy and selfish that is as you get into the shower, but you really don’t care. What you do care about is trying to get your mind to cooperate with you on the matter. After your shower you run into Dave in the hallway. He’s used to seeing you wrapped in a towel, so he says nothing, looking at your eyes and un-styled hair.

“John-Jake come by again?” he asks, already knowing the answer if his tone is anything to go by.

“Don’t call him that. He’s just Jake. I only called him John because I was drunk and stupid.”

“Who is John anyway? It’s not good to bottle these things up, Bro. Wouldn’t want you lashing out again.”

“New puppet friend I’m making for Cal. Gonna call him Lil John, after the best sidekick Robin Hood ever had.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Very much so.”

“I— Whatever. I’m going to school.”

He slips by you and flash steps to the door and you feel a bit of pride swell in your chest. Jake’s awake in the bedroom when you get there and he greets you with a smile, you nod in acknowledgement as you start getting dressed. You can feel his eyes watching you hungrily and you’re almost surprised he doesn’t ask for a morning round. Mostly you’re happy he doesn’t, you don’t really feel up to it.

He gets dressed soon after you do and you collapse on your futon in the living room to kill more time. You’re a bit annoyed he sits next to you instead of leaving but you don’t say anything. His eyes scan around the room because this is the first he’s seen it in the daytime. You watch him take everything in, and his eyes come to a stop on the floor in front of him. You follow his gaze and have to bite back the laugh that threatens to erupt. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen. You think you’ve broken him, at least you’ve found a way to shut him up. The smuppet looks back at him innocently.

“Uh…Bro. What is that?”

“My day job.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you worked at a coffee shop.”

“Right, but I also cater to a specific type of fetish. Mainly puppets. You’re looking at a tiny piece of a multi billion dollar a year enterprise.”

Complete disbelief takes over his face but he asks no other questions, and you know that his first reaction isn’t to slip it into his bag when you aren’t looking and take it home. And it’s not just because he didn’t bring a bag. You stand not too long after that, and announce that you need to leave for work. He offers a ride. Having to rely on him for a ride there would mean he’d expect to pick you up. And you can’t hang out John after work without a car, and certainly not if Jake’s around. His face falls when you tell him you’ll pass.

“Can I at least see you tonight then?”

You hesitate, but you know he doesn’t pick up on it.

“Sure,” you say after a little while and he perks up, kissing you on the cheek on his way out. It’s rough, and wet, and his chin stubble scratches your cheek. You wipe your face off when his back is turned.

==>

The rest of the week plays out much like that and you’re starting to feel like you’ve developed a domestic routine. You hang out with John for a couple hours during the day, meet with Jake during the night, wallow in self pity before making yourself get out of bed and face the day, deny rides to work from Jake, repeat. On your day off Jake hangs around and it’s impossible to get any work done on your site so you fill a few orders and update your blog so everyone knows you’re still working. You tell everyone in the post that you’ve come down with a bug problem. A few people comment, giving you links and numbers to pest control companies in your area and you actually laugh. If only they knew.

One morning starts off as normal as the others; you make small talk with Gamzee, John comes in and orders his hot chocolate or whatever he’s in the mood for, and then he pulls his lap top out and sits happily at his table while he waits for you to be done your shift. It’s a nice routine, one that you won’t admit you enjoy but it’s still obvious that you do anyway. Gamzee questions what exactly you’re doing with John and Jake and you wish you could provide him with an answer that makes sense. It’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t you, and even then you don’t even understand why you’re putting yourself through all this. You’re a masochist. That has to be it.

The afternoon brings along something far worse than you could have imagined. A mop of messy black hair passes by the window and you pale. Gamzee looks at you, and you look back at him in panic. John sits at his table; completely oblivious to everything you’re going through right now. Which is for the best you think, but it won’t remain that way for too long. Jake enters the building, all smiles and glances in John’s direction for a moment before focusing on you as he walks toward the counter. John continues to stare mindlessly at his screen, you know how loud Jake talks and you know he won’t be ignorant of the situation forever. You hope he would though. You’re not really ready to see him go. A part of you hopes you're over reacting.

“Greetings, Strider!” Jake’s voice booms the way you knew it would, and it catches John’s attention. He’s now looking at the commotion going on at the counter. He’s used to people coming in and ordering, but he’s not used to anyone really talking to you other than that. You don’t have a lot of people you’re friendly enough with to the point where they visit you at work.

“What can I get for you?” You ask, trying to keep this a professional as possible, trying to keep up appearances. Jake blinks at you and laughs. You’re happy for the counter because he would probably clap you on the shoulder if you were standing next to him.

“Really, Strider. Given the kind of relationship we have, I don’t think you need to be so formal. We both know I didn’t come here for coffee. I came to see you!”

You swallow and send a glance over to John, he has his elbows propped on the table and he’s leaning forward with his chin on his palm, eyebrows raised and looking back at you expectantly. You can’t handle it anymore and have to avert back to Jake, who is still grinning broadly.

“Well, if you don’t get anything…I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Can’t have loiterers and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, of course! I just wanted to let you know I was in town, so give me a ring when you’re done here and we can grab lunch!”

You nod stiffly and he walks away, but the awkward air he brought in doesn’t leave with him. For the rest of your shift you don’t dare look in John’s direction. The sounds of his typing offer your nerves little comfort. Gamzee tries distracting you, and it helps a bit but overall you’re just a nervous wreck. You see John pack up his stuff and leave a few minutes before you clock out. He waits for you against the building and doesn’t say anything when you turn to him. His arms are crossed and his eyebrow is raised once again. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what he’s waiting for. He wants you to explain yourself, but he’s not going to ask you to. You wish he would, though. But you don’t think that would make this any easier.

“I’m sorry,” you start and he scoffs. You should have known an apology wouldn’t work so easy. You sigh. “He’s not anyone of real importance, okay?”

That actually makes him laugh, but not his usual bright laughter. This one is more malicious and sarcastic. You don’t like it. It doesn’t suit him at all.

“Oh really? Because he seems to think you guys have a relationship going. Which would have been nice to know. It would have saved me all this trouble of continuing to like you and continuing to go out with you had I known you had a boyfriend,” his tone is surprisingly even, but you can still feel the venom behind his words. You don’t want to have to explain this; it brings an onslaught of new emotions you’ve never had to deal with before and it makes your chest feel tight. Is this what break ups feel like? It can’t be. You and John don’t have a relationship to break up from. He’s glaring at you, waiting for an explanation and you find yourself shrinking under the intensity of his eyes.

“It’s not like that, okay? He’s not my boyfriend…he’s not even really a friend. He’s just a person I’ve hooked up with a couple times.”

The expression on John’s face breaks your heart. His glare softens to a look of disbelief and you can see his brain working to try and make sense of all this, to find out where he fits into the equation. You have to look away, because you’re a coward and because you don’t deserve him.

“So was this all some kind of joke to you?” his voice cracks, and you know he’s referring to whatever kind of thing you have with him. He doesn’t give you time to respond. “Were you just bored and I happened to be there until something better came along? I mean I wasn’t expecting you to jump on me or anything but…I just kind of figured…you know what? Never mind. Have fun with your acquaintance with benefits or whatever he is to you.” He throws a wadded up paper ball at you that bounces off your head and rolls to the ground, and he stomps away. You think you saw wetness gathering on the ends of his eyelashes. You take a step forward, crushing the paper ball under your foot.

“At least let me give you a ride home!”

The only reply you get is a middle finger raised in your direction. You get the feeling he couldn’t turn around and you’re glad he didn’t because you couldn’t handle seeing him cry. You can hardly handle watching him walk away. With a sigh, you bend down and pick up the paper that’s covered in tiny rocks of gravel and dirt now. You carefully unfold it and once again feel the tightening in your chest that you’ve come to associate with a breaking heart. It’s a flyer, one stating the date, time, and location of his upcoming piano recital next week. You feel like shit. You felt like shit already, but the feeling is intensified the longer you look at the paper. You get into your car and throw the paper into the backseat, which does nothing to push it out of your mind. The numbers have been in graved into your brain and you curse whatever gods exist for gifting you with a good memory. You follow John’s path, but you don’t see him anywhere. When you drive by his house, there’s a light on in a room on the second floor. You’re tempted to stop and knock on his door and get him to come out and talk to you. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him and tell him that Jake isn’t important, and that it’s been him all along that matters. You’ll shower his face in kisses as you back him against the wall.

You keep driving.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author decides she's put her readers through enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to all of you for your support. God bless us, everyone. So, now that this scene is taken care of, there's one more left that I've been dying to write since I decided to make this multi chapters. I'm not sure when it will be, because I want to establish the relationship more before it happens, but it was the first thing I thought of when I decided that I wanted to continue writing this fic after chapter one.

You see Jake every day, and it’s just as reluctant as you knew it would be. John doesn’t show up at all, and you thought it would be easy to replace him once you convinced yourself he wasn’t coming back. Only you never fully convinced yourself of that fact, and you still waited for him after work. You started drinking more than usual as a way to distract yourself, but to no real help. All that happened was you showed up to work hung over more often than not and you missed John more than you did otherwise. John’s last words replay in your head over and over no matter how much you drink. It only makes them louder.

You try to work smuppets into bed with Jake, as a way to liven things up a bit but it becomes clear to you that he wants nothing to do with them. He finds them creepy and weird and you’re really disappointed by that. You were hoping he’d at least be open to them after he got over the initial shock of them, but that was wishful thinking. Jake doesn’t seem pleased by your constant drinking, but he never outright complains. On the nights where you get too drunk to fuck he takes care of you. You coo thank you’s at him and even nuzzle against him. Maybe this is why he lets you drink, because you actually show him some kind of affection. Your sessions with him have lacked passion, but that’s nothing new. You don’t remember them well and that’s the only part of the situation you like.

Gamzee tries to help you, but since he’s not sure what he can do, there’s not much help he can give you other than a distraction and it’s helpful while you’re at work but all progress is lost by the time you’re home. At the peak of your downward spiral, about a couple days before John’s recital (you haven’t been able to forget that no matter how much you drink), Gamzee looks at your distressed state and you look at him and you can tell he feels guilty based on the frown he’s sporting. His brow is knit tightly, and it’s the worst than what you thought because you didn’t want him to blame himself for what happened. It’s not his fault, and you tell him so.

He smiles at you before asking, “If it hurts so much to be with Jake, why do you keep doing it to yourself?”

You sigh, head throbbing and the question makes you feel tired.

“I guess because even though I can’t stand him, I can’t stand being alone even more. And that sounds wrong, but he has to know this isn’t going anywhere.”

Gamzee nods, and bites his lip. He takes the next few orders that come in, leaving you to clean the counters. When everyone leaves, he turns back to you.

“You know if you want to be with the kid, I won’t rat you out right? I won’t judge you or anything, I just like you being happy.”

You offer him a smile, “just because you won’t, doesn’t mean other people will.”

“Bro Strider caring about the opinions of others? Never thought I’d live to see the day,” he grins and you can’t help but smile too because even the idea of that sounds ridiculous to you. The smile is fleeting however, and you’re left feeling more confused than you were before. It lasts until you leave for home. It continues on as you down a bottle of beer followed by another until Jake texts you and you tell him to stay home. You fall asleep on the futon, empty bottles on the floor surrounding you and when you wake up to the sound of the door closing you have a blanket on you that wasn’t there before.

==>

You get your hopes up. You see black hair passing by and you feel the tightness in your chest and stomach at the idea of seeing John a few hours earlier than you expected. You prepared for his cold shoulder, and telling Gamzee you were going on break because you had to talk to him. You just had to. You needed to tell him everything you’ve been holding in since last week. Fresh disappointment settles in when you realize there’s no way John could have grown that in such a short time. No, it’s Jake who comes barging in and your heart sinks the second your orange eyes lock with his emerald green. He’s grinning as wide as always, like there’s nothing wrong and you find it mocking even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He approaches the counter, his voice as loud as ever when he speaks.

“Good day to you, Strider,” he greets.

“Yo,” you say flatly.

“I must say I am rather disappointed our plans fell through last night. Hopefully everything works out this evening?”

You shake your head, “Tonight’s no good either,” a moment of silence passes between you both and you think about tonight and seeing John and finally talking to John. “Actually, I think we should stop uh…whatever this is. We can still be friends or whatever, but I think it’s best if everything else stops before someone gets hurt.”

Of course it’s a bit too late to worry about someone getting hurt but Jake didn’t need to know about that. An awkward silence falls over you both, and Jake’s smile falters. He doesn’t bother covering it up and you keep your indifferent mask in place.

“Getting bored are you, chap?” he asks quietly, the quietest you’ve ever heard him speak and inwardly you groan. What is with people thinking you’re stringing them along out of boredom?

“No, nothing like that. I’m just not looking for a relationship,” you have enough tact not to add ‘with you,’ though you think it really loudly that it’s amazing he doesn’t pick up on it. He brightens up, most likely out of relief.

“Thank you for your honesty, Bro! Don’t fret; I’m not put off by this news in the least. I’m actually rather pleased you feel this way. I wouldn’t have wanted you to get attached.”

Gamzee snorts from behind you and you have to bite back your own laughter as well. Jake is just as oblivious as he always is, and leaves with a goodbye. Once the door closes you join Gamzee in laughing.

==>

You’ve never cared about what you’ve worn before. But you find yourself standing in front of your closet with your brow furrowed and your lips pursed. You’ve never been to something like this, and even though it’s being held in the auditorium of the high school you don’t want to go in looking like a bum off the street. You think of John’s dad and his suits, and think that he’s probably going to be wearing one so you won’t look too out of place. You grab the only button up shirt you own and tuck into black dress pants. You ditch your hat, styling your hair in a way you haven’t since you were in your early twenties. But you can’t leave your shades at home as much as you’ve thought about it. You grab them as you leave the apartment, waving goodbye to Dave on your way out. You don’t see his face, but you can only imagine the confused look he has right now.

The parking lot is pretty filled up by the time you get there (fashionably late of course but still pretty early) but you park somewhat close to the building anyway. You know where the auditorium is so it takes you no time to navigate the halls. It’s a free event, but there are girls standing outside the doors handing out programs. You don’t plan on going in until just before it starts but you take one anyway, flipping through it. John will be going on after the intermission, and you realize that there’s no turning back now. In a matter of an hour you’ll be seeing John for the first time in a week. Sure, there have been weeks where you haven’t seen him. But it’s never been on a bad note, and it’s never felt as torturous as it did this past week. You’re heart is beating wildly in excitement. You get to see John, you get to talk to him, and you finally get to explain to him everything you wanted to before. It doesn’t even occur to you to be nervous about this, you just want John.

“Broderick. This is a pleasant surprise,” a polite voice pulls you out of your thoughts and when you turn around you’re face to face with John’s dad. You’re not surprised he’d be here; you’re just surprised he’s talking to you and even remembers you.

“Yeah, I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d get a little culture in.”

He chuckles and the smile stays long after the laughter fades, “Well, I hope you enjoy. Jonathan will be on tonight. As a matter of fact I’m going to see him to wish him luck. Would you like to tag along? He’ll be happy to see you here.”

You swallow and shift awkwardly. You’re not sure if he knows anything, but you get the feeling he does anyway. His eyes find yours behind your shades and it almost feels like a challenge, like he’s trying to dig into them to figure you out. You feel nervous for the first time all day.

“Nah, that’s alright. I’ll let you guys have your father-son time.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’ll be sure to let him know you’re here. As I said, he’ll be happy to know you’re here. And my son’s happiness is very important to me, Broderick.”

The tone he uses makes you shiver a little, but before you can really respond to him he walks away. You walk into the auditorium after that and take a seat a few rows from the back. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and the lights go dark. Just a few more hours.

==>

You don’t move from your seat at intermission and you don’t pay attention to any of the performers either. When it’s finally John’s turn you push your shades up to you head. He stands facing the crowd and you’re too far away to see his face so you can’t tell if he’s scanning the crowd for you or if he’s angry but he sits down at the piano and you lose yourself in his music. His nimble fingers glide across the keys and the melody it produces hits you right in the chest. You recognize the piece and you close your eyes and let the haunting notes of Moonlight Sonata ring through your ears and give you new insight to how John must have been feeling the last week. But you doubt with how often he was practicing before your fight that the two are connected.

He’s finished far too quickly and you wait out the rest of the performers. There’s scurrying once it’s over, young musicians meeting up with their parents. Your eyes lock on John, talking to his dad about something you can’t hear over the sounds of too many people talking at once. You could get closer if you wanted to, but you stay firmly planted in your seat, shades long since returning to their spot covering your eyes. 

John’s dad leaves without him. The crowd thins and you scan for John but you don’t see him anywhere. You’re about to give up, he must have left with his dad after all, but as you stand up you see him on the stage. He’s looking out at the rows of seats and you freeze. Your heart thumps against your chest in triple time and if your shades weren’t on he would be able to see your deer in the headlights stare. Neither of you move, neither of you say anything. Your mouth is dry and you regret not at least buying a bottle of water during the intermission but you doubt that would help anyway.

“Are you just going to stand there with that dumb look on your face or are you going to get your ass up here?” his voice isn’t loud but his words echo throughout the large room. That’s all it takes to get you moving out of your row and making your way down the isle and up the stairs of the stage and he’s in front of you. All at once he’s in front of you and you’re looking into his eyes, his blue eyes that remind you so much of a cloudy sky on a summer day and shit that sounds so lame but you don’t even care. You open your mouth but no words come out.

Before you even really know what you’re doing, you’re taking him into your arms and hugging him to you. He’s stiff at first, either caught off guard by the suddenness or unsure if he wants to reciprocate but eventually he relaxes and wraps his arms around your waist. Your head is in his hair and you inhale the smell of his shampoo. It’s been so long, too long, since you had him in your arms and it feels so good you question why you denied yourself this simple pleasure in the first place. After another minute he pulls away and you let him. He stands his ground, and his eyes scan your face. You make it easier for him (because he deserves that much) and take off your shades, clipping them to the collar of his shirt. He looks down at them, then back up at you, and seeing those blue eyes clearly and so full of emotion your words get caught in your throat.

“John—“

“Before you say anything, I may have overreacted a little bit,” he sighs and plays with the edge of your shades. “I had no right to be mad at you or to have expectations because we never established that we were dating and it wasn’t right for me to assume we were, especially when on day one you said it couldn’t go anywhere. So I’m sorry I flipped like that.”

This was the opposite of what you wanted, and you shake your head.

“No, John. You aren’t to blame here, okay? I was the one that messed up. I mean, yeah I said it couldn’t go anywhere but I also made it clear I had feelings for you that were more than platonic and I lead you on so bad. I shouldn’t have done what I did to you. I should have…I should have considered how you might have felt. We should have talked about it more.”

“Why does it matter how I felt?” he mumbles the questions, eyes cast down at his shoes and you tilt his chin up to you.

“Because you matter. John, the reason I did what I did, was because I tried to convince myself that I didn’t like you. I thought it would be easier if I just forget my feelings for you because as far society is concerned we shouldn’t be together. So I figured if I moved on that no one would get hurt. But in my selfishness, I ended up hurting you. And I can’t forgive myself for that.”

A small smile graces his lips, “I never thought Bro Strider would be the one to care about what society thinks.”

You actually laugh and pull him closer to you, arms around his waist.

“You know, that’s the second time someone has said something along those lines to me. And it’s the second time I’m realizing how ridiculous it is. I’m sorry, John.”

His arms come up around your neck and it feels like heaven.

“It’s okay…I mean…I forgive you. I made things hard on you and I know that and you could get in so much trouble for this and I know that too. But I can’t help how I feel and I just…I really want to be with you, Dirk. Like, as long as we’re careful no one else will know and I’ll be seventeen next year.”

You’ve never liked your real name much, but when he says it, it sounds the like the music he was playing and your heart races faster if that’s possible. You think it is, when you’re with John anything is possible.

“I think I’m done denying myself the things I want. It took me awhile and you walking away to make me realize how much I—how much I want to be with you, too. I never want to see you walk away from me again, not like that. I never want to make you feel like that ever again. I’ll work hard to make it up to you. I can promise you that.”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?”

You close the distance between you with a hard kiss to his lips that catches him off guard for a second before he kisses you back earnestly. It’s sloppy, long overdue, and so much different from how your kisses with Jake were that you moan into it before you can control yourself. His mouth slides inexperienced against yours and when he bites your lip on accident you press against him, backing him into the piano. You pick him up easily, not even bothering to stop kissing him and you’re not even sure if you could stop even if you wanted to. You set him down on the piano and a collection of random notes rings out from the keys he’s sitting on but that doesn’t stop him so it doesn’t stop you. You lean into him, spreading his legs with your hands and settling yourself in between them and they close around your hips. He pulls away from you, panting, red faced, and his blue eyes are clouded with lust and you decide this is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Okay…I think you’re in the clear now,” he pants.

You smirk and lean your forehead against his, “That’s a shame cause I haven’t even gotten warmed up yet.”

Before he can question what you mean by that you kiss his nose and across his cheeks, along his jawline, down to his neck and you spend time there, nipping and sucking and licking and his hands go to your hair and he holds you there. You plant small kisses to the places on his skin you’ve damaged, content breathing him in. Your hands explore his thighs and travel up his sides and you feel him melt into you. You pull away from his neck and kiss his lips firmly, your hands landing on the waistband of his pants, your fingers slipping between the fabric. He gasps against your mouth and pushes against you as your fingers slide to the button of his pants and work it open easily. You tease the zipper and he makes a frustrated groan into the kiss and it’s then that you decide to stop messing with him and slowly unzip his pants.

He shimmies a little, making it easier for you to remove his pants and boxers down to mid thigh and the keys crash with every movement, the notes he hits surrounding you both before fading out of the air and it becomes sweet music you wish you’d be able to save for later. You push him back against the piano, and he leans on his elbows to keep the slight jutting out part where sheet music goes to dig into his back. You kiss down his chest, light pecks to his skin and his breathing hitches the further down you go until it comes to a stop completely when you take his cock into your mouth, not bothering to tease him because you’re not sure how long you’ll be alone for and you’ve wanted to have him like this for so long that you can’t control yourself. He doesn’t complain though, fingers of one hand digging into your scalp as he grips your hair and it makes you moan, the vibrations causing him to moan in reply and you descend down, your tongue pressing against the sensitive underside of his dick. When you’ve taken him completely you look up at him and make eye contact as you start pulling back again. He pants as you suck on his head before going back down, and you watch his eyes roll to the back of his head before he closes them and your speed quickens. Your head bobs and you hallow your cheeks and it doesn’t take long before John is a sputtering mess, his sentences almost incoherent and getting cut off by his moans and pants.

He doesn’t warn you when he comes, but you know when it happens anyway because his grip on your hair tightens. You don’t pull back; you wrap your lips around the head and suck his orgasm out of him. He lets out a content sigh, and his fingers loosen to just rest his hand against your head as you clean him up and pick him up off the piano and support him while he gets used to standing again. He’s shaking a little, no doubt from the remaining aftershocks of his orgasm and you can’t help but grin as you redress him and pick up your shades. He grins back at you, kissing your cheek and leaning his head against your shoulder.

“You good?” you ask after a little while and you feel him nod.

“Yeah…I just…I just need a minute.”

You chuckle, “Well, I should probably get you back to your dad.”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I told him I was going out with some buddies to celebrate our performances and that I’d be home later.”

“Oh? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you planned this.”

“Well duh, you’re not the only one who suffered this week. I was hoping you’d be here and then when he told me you were here I couldn’t leave before talking to you.”

You take his hand in yours, tangling your fingers together and you grin. You feel like you’re beaming and he looks like he is too. You kiss his hand and he meets your eyes.

“Can we be boyfriends now?” his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear the question and you can’t help but laugh as you pull him into you again.

“Of course, idiot. I don’t suck just anyone’s dick on a piano.”

He snorts at your retort, “I’m glad I get special treatment.”

“Always, babe. Always.”

==>

You don’t drop him off at his house until after midnight and when he walks to his house he walks backward and as he reaches the door he blows you a kiss before he’s forced to turn away from you and open the door. Before he closes it, you return it. The closed door doesn’t kill the smile on your face as you pull out of his driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn is not my strong point.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a brojohn fic without a convenient Dadbert business trip?

Your relationship with John has changed dramatically upon becoming an official thing. There's never a day where you don't see him anymore, and after that last week you spent without him you never want to do that again. While you're still guarded with some of your actions in public, you both sneak glances and small touches that hold you over until you get him alone. And you guys spend a lot of time alone now, alternating between his house and your apartment. There's never any pressure to go beyond just cuddling and kissing him and you like that more than anything to the point where weeks have gone by since The Blowjob. He's getting restless though, you can tell and you'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying watching him squirm. When you kiss him he presses into you and he still slips up with his teeth every so often and he tries to distract you with his inexperience as his greedy hands try undoing your belt but you still stop him every time, much to his annoyance. He never outright complains though, and you think he enjoys the kissing and cuddling as much as you do. You'd enjoy doing anything with him, really. Except fighting but you don't have to worry about that anymore.

He took you out to eat one day after work, which you weren't really expecting because it's usually you that pays. But that was mostly you just assuming you'd be the one to pay since he didn't have an income other than his father. Though, you have wondered where he gets the money for daily coffees. You both sat in the booth at Taco Bell, he with his Crunchwrap and you with your burrito. There wasn't a hurry to go anywhere, it being Friday and Dave had texted you he was going to stay a friend's house so there was all afternoon. You eat slow, more focused on him than the meal. He chews with his mouth closed, though his lips were still curled in a smile. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows, making eye contact with you. There was something he wants to say, you can tell from the look in his eye but he doesn’t speak right away. He takes a small sip of soda first and you take another bite of your burrito.

"Sleep over tonight," he says suddenly and you nearly choke on your food. For the weeks you two had been together, he never spent the night over; not even on weekends where Dave was away. And staying at his place is, obviously, out of the question. It was just kind of an unspoken rule that it was too soon. Or at least you thought it had been. You wondered how long he had been holding off on asking you this and it made you nervous to think of what else he could be plotting without you knowing.

"Um, what about your dad?" You ask once you get over your coughing fit and it no longer feels like your throat is on fire.

"He's away on business. Left this morning. He'll be back on Sunday."

So that's a whole weekend of potential John time. It was a tempting thought, but thirty year olds don't usually do the whole sleep over thing. Of course, thirty year olds also don't get into romantic relationships with sixteen year olds. Or give said sixteen year olds blow jobs on pianos so maybe you aren't exactly a good authority on this kind of thing. Plus, it's not just any sixteen-year-old. It's John. You're going to say yes anyway, you're just putting off the inevitable at this point.

"I guess that would be fun." He beams at your answer and hurriedly finishes his meal, and you finish off yours as well. He happily leads the way to your car and his excitement is what makes all of this worth it the most. You can deal with a tiny bit of discomfort as long as he's happy, and it's not like you should have a reason to feel uncomfortable anyway. This is John, after all.

He talks excitedly the entire drive back your house. He's practically bouncing up and down in his seat, which changes to bouncing around you once you park the car at your apartment complex. He takes the stairs two at a time, and hops on the balls of his feet outside your door while he waits for you to unlock it. He even circles around you on the way to your room. It's been so long since you've had a normal sleep over that you're not really sure where to begin. You start by emptying the duffel bag you use for extra equipment for your gigs and then stare into the depths. It looks so much bigger when it's empty. You're aware of John behind you, standing on his toes to look over your shoulder.

"Clothes would help," he remarks, his voice making you jump a little.

"Right, I know. I was getting to that," you say defensively. He giggles that cute giggle you love too much. It sounds even sweeter right next to your ear.

"Do you mind speeding up the process? The way you're moving my dad will be home by the time you're packed!"

You chuckle awkwardly and shimmy away from him. You hear him shuffle behind you and sit on the bed, and you can feel him staring at you. Your dresser has never looked as haunting as it does now. You're not even sure _how_ to pack for a sleep over. You’re packing a fucking overnight bag. It's a step away from leaving your toothbrush at his house and you're scared that maybe that's what he's expecting and that was his intention all along. You open the drawers, getting out a clean tee shirt and a pair of jeans, along with some boxers, and turn to face him. He's sitting on your bed grinning eagerly and you feel bad for questioning his motives. When you walk back to the bed and put your stuff into the duffel bag, you lean over and kiss his forehead. The action catches him off guard, but he giggles and playfully swats you away. You can do this. You’re Bro Strider.

==>

You can’t do this. You have finally found the one thing Bro Strider cannot do and that’s have a sleepover with his adorable, sixteen-year-old boyfriend. When John takes your bag from you and brings it up to his room, you feel a wave of panic set in. All you think about is the bedroom. You’ve never been in a bedroom with John. The fact that your bag is currently sitting on the floor of his bedroom cements into your skull that you have to be in a bedroom with John now. If you were someone else, you would be sweating. But you’re Bro Strider, so you put your shades over your eyes and shove your gloved hands into the pockets of your jeans. You lean against the arm of the couch and breath slowly through your nose. Why didn’t you bring Cal? You curse yourself for not bringing Cal.

John comes back downstairs, and your heart stops. He’s wearing sweatpants and a shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It drapes over his frame, not clinging to him at all. The neck has been stretched out from years of wearing and it hangs low on his shoulders, exposing the tops of his collarbones. You’ve never seen him like this, and you know it’s a total cliché to think that he looks so great like this, but you think it anyway. You can’t help but think it anyway. He looks toward you and grins, like he expected you to flashstep out of there the second he turned his back. He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your breast because he’s not quite tall enough to reach your neck yet. But that’s all right; you’ll stay with him until he is and then however long he’ll keep you after that.

“I know you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. I just want you with me.”

You wrap your arms around him in return and smell his hair as you wonder what you were even nervous about in the first place.

==>

He yawns while the credits roll. After he made dinner, he wanted to watch movies. That was a usual activity, sitting on a couch and holding him close while the hero on screen works on solving their huge crisis. But towards the end of _Ghostbusters_ , about when the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man started destroying New York, you felt his weight more against your side and his commentary slowed. Your nerves flooded back suddenly. You knew this would happen. You knew he couldn’t fight the drowsiness forever, and neither could you. You were starting to get tired too. You started calculating the probability of pulling off an all nighter but decided against it. He would notice you weren’t sleeping. He’d get upset.

“I’m tired,” he announces as he sits up. “Are you tired?”

You debate lying.

“Yeah, a bit. Not enough to sleep.”

That's half true, you suppose. You don’t know if you could sleep even if you were that tired.

“Do you want to lay down?”

“Where? Here?”

He snorts and you can see the eye roll in the glare of the DVD’s title menu.

“No, dummy. Upstairs.”

“You mean…in your bed?”

“Well, duh. Where else would we lay down?”

You swallow. You knew this would happen, it was bound to. You just didn’t realize how hard it would be. Don’t you dare make an innuendo out of that. You’re such a pervert. You _feel_ like a pervert.

“John…”

“Look, you’re tired. I’m tired. What’s the difference between cuddling down here and cuddling up there? What makes a couch different than a bed in terms of laying down location? Who said beds had to be more intimate, anyway? We’ve made out on couches so many times. We could just as easily...” he pauses looking for the words, “ _have sex_ ,” he whispers as if it’s some secret, “on a couch.”

You stand, and pull him up by his hand. He smirks because he knows he has you. He knows you can’t find fault in that logic and anything you could say to argue would just be you making excuses. So you let him lead you up the stairs to his room that you have never seen. He turns the light on and you blink rapidly as you try to get your eyes to adjust (John had taken your shades off before starting the movie marathon). His room looked exactly as you pictured it would, cluttered but not messy and the walls were covered in movie posters. John dropped your hand and crawled under the blankets, lying on his side, his eyes on you expectantly. You see your duffel bag on the floor by his bed and use it as an excuse to put off getting in bed.

“I’m gonna get changed first,” you say as you pull clothes out of it and duck out of the room before he could say anything. You find the bathroom down the hall and collapse against the door once you close it behind you. You unzip your jeans and step out of them before looking at the clothes you grabbed, a fresh pair of boxers and an old shirt. It’s right then you realize that you made a fatal error. You never sleep in pants. Hell, you hardly ever sleep in a shirt. You only own one pair of sweatpants and that’s only because you wanted to save Dave the mental scarring of seeing you walking around in your underwear all the time. Those sweatpants are on the floor back at your apartment right now, because you’re a huge moron.

You get dressed anyway, forcing yourself to just suck it up and wear a shirt with the mindset of making this less awkward than it needs to be. When you get back to John’s room, you toss your clothes in the direction of your bag and turn the light off. His eyes are closed, and you stand at the edge of his bed. How long were you in the bathroom? Is he asleep? He has to be, he was really tired downstairs. Maybe he’s one of those people that can crash as soon as their head hits the pillow. Yeah, he’s totally asleep. You could just flashstep out of the room and he’d have no idea. You could put off this awkward moment for another hour.

“It’s really creepy when you just stand over someone, you know.”

You sigh through your nose and climb into bed, and he moves over to accommodate you. You lay on your back and he cuddles into your side. Forcing yourself to relax ends up being easier than you expected, and your arm wraps around his shoulders and your chin rests on his head. This is what you’re comfortable with, and there’s no pressure unless you think there will be. It’s not awkward unless you make it awkward. _It's not perverted unless you make it perverted_. You were a fool for worrying.

“Hey, John?” you whisper into the dead air that surrounds but doesn’t suffocate. You feel his head shift and you know he’s trying to look at you.

“Yes, Dirk?”

“Thanks. For you know, putting up with me.”

His head moves back to where it was and you can tell without seeing his face that he’s smiling.

“Somebody has to,” he says tiredly. And this time you know he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy wow, HOLY WOW. Okay I want to start this off by saying: I am so sorry. I can't believe it's been over 3 months since my last chapter. I honestly WAS NOT planning on it being that long. I ended up getting promoted at work and that took away the writing time I had at work, which is where I got 90% of my writing done. And then there was the task of getting settled into my apartment, which didn't take too long but then I started having computer trouble to the point where it was looking like I was going to lose my laptop. Then I just got distracted but I am so sorry and I'm back now, I promise. I have some plot ideas set up and brainstorms working for upcoming chapters. And also a bonus spinoff one shot that's in John's point of view which will be posted along side the next chapter. Anyway, I can't stress enough how sorry I am about the wait you guys. I hope this chapter makes up for it (even if it is a tad short, but there's a reason for that trust me on it). (Also sorry if it seems awkwardly paced, it's hard getting back into the groove man). Thank you to everyone who read and waited patiently. LOOK AT ALL THE HITS! AND THE KUDOS! AND THE BOOKMARKS! Just, thank you. Thank You.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the only relevant thing happens at the end of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start off first by saying holy shit, I am so sorry. I never intended there to be two months between updates. So you know how I was having computer problems and stuff? And how those got fixed? Well, maybe 5 days after I uploaded chapter 13 I run into YET ANOTHER problem that took me a bit of time to get fixed since it was expensive (Apple products aren't cheap, sigh). And I was really upset about that too because I had this chapter pretty much done and everything. SO I am back from an unintended hiatus and I promise that hopefully nothing else will happen. (Close to when I lose my warranty I'm gonna send my computer in to get it tuned up but I will actually give a warning when that happens it shouldn't be more than a week at most). Anyway I hope you enjoy this and I'm sorry again.
> 
> Also! As you might have noticed, this now part of a series. Which is thanks in large part to the fact that I wrote a mini spin off thing in John's point of view that I encourage you to read after this chapter (you can read it before, but it contains a couple small spoilers? so do whatever way) Or you don't have to read it at all! But if you'd like to you can either click to view the series or to save you time: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1106144  
> Happy Holidays, you guys!! :D

When you wake up, it takes you about thirty seconds to remember where you are and another thirty seconds to register that you are waking up alone. You sit up in the too small bed and look around John's room for your shades before you remember you left them downstairs. Downstairs in John's living room. John's dad's living room if you want to get technical. You push the blanket off and climb out of the bed, stretching when you stand. You walk lightly through the hallway. Even though you know the house is empty, you still tread lightly when you walk by Mr. Egbert's room. The threat of parents is one you haven't had to worry about for who knows how many years, and even when it was a worry you weren't stressed out or anxious like everyone else seemed to get. But there was something about Mr. Egbert that puts you on edge. You think back to your encounter with him at the high school and remember how he carried himself. How _knowing_ he seemed to be. It sends a shiver down your spine just thinking about it.

You find John in the kitchen and immediately push all negative thoughts out. He's busying himself at the stove, pouring batter into one pan as he checks the bacon in another. And it smells amazing, better than anything Jake ever cooked up and you're willing to bet it tastes better too. You make yourself known by pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and John turns to you, spatula in hand and grinning. He's still wearing his oversized shirt and his hair is messier than usual. He doesn't even look tired. You're not sure how he does it.

"Wow, you look really awful,” he greets, and goes back to his cooking. There's a plate next to him already stacked with pancakes and waffles, and some links of sausage. You’ve never seen so much food outside of a Chinese buffet in your life.

“If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best,” you reply and he snorts as he sets a plate down in front of you.

“We don’t have a coffee pot, but I can make you some tea,” he offers. You shake your head and smother the food on your plate with maple syrup as he takes the seat next to you with his own plate in hand.

“You’ve already done more than enough.”

Eating occupies the both of you. The food is just as great as you expected and then some. As you finish the last bite, you’re a little upset by how full you are because the leftovers still on the stove are tempting. He cleans his own plate, and starts to clean up. You can only sit at the table numbly and full of food. It’s all so domestic, so much more domestic than you even thought it would be. Is this what living with him would be like? As soon as the thought crosses your mind you suppress it. You shouldn’t be thinking like that, not when he still has pretty much all of his teenage years to live out. Plus there’s college, and who knows if your relationship will survive that. Of course, that’s assuming if it survives even long enough for you to see him off.

When he finishes the dishes, he sits himself down in your lap and wraps his arms around your neck. He rubs his nose against yours and the action causes you to smile. His head rests on your shoulder and you lean your own on top of his because suddenly a new wave of exhaustion crashes over you. You’re really not a morning person and this is the earliest you’ve been up since Dave was old enough to start getting ready for school without you. You yawn in an attempt to keep yourself awake, but end up feeling even more tired. John just chuckles lightly against your shirt.

“What did you want to do today?” he asks suddenly. It makes you jump a little, not that you were starting to doze off or anything.

“I don’t know. Probably can’t hang around too long, need to water the little bro at some point.”

He looks disappointed, and it makes you feel a little bad. You bounce your knee a couple times, in the hopes of making him feel better as well as to get the feeling back in your leg.

"I can hang out for a little while though, at least until noon."

He perks up after that, smiling and hopping down from your lap.

"Great because there's something I still want to do with you," he says as he grabs your hand and drags you into the living room. He sits you down on the couch and resumes his position in your lap. He doesn't say anything at first, just stares at you and if he wasn't your significant other you might be a little more creeped out by it than you are right now.

"Hi," you say for lack of anything better and you feel his scoff against your lips.

"Don't ruin this by talking," he whispers just before he closes the gap between your lips. You breathe out a sigh through your nose because this feels like relief and you hadn't even realized you missed kissing him until he kissed you. You wrap your arms tightly around him, pressing him hard against you and he shifts his weight to sit more comfortably. His mouth widens, and you feel his tongue on your upper lip and you open your mouth in response and your tongues dance together. He tastes like maple and morning breath, but it’s the most delicious combination of things you have ever experienced.

He pulls away from you moments later, serene smile on his face and panting softly. It makes you laugh inwardly how easy it is to get him out of breath. He moves suddenly, one knee on either side of your waist and he whimpers. The sound affects you more than you’d like to admit, but it doesn’t matter because he can probably feel the start of it anyway. He wiggles against your lap. That little fucking tease, you hate how much you don’t hate him.

“Dirk,” he whines and you tilt your head in acknowledgment. “Can we do more than kiss?”

Your face pales a little, and you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re sure he does though; he can probably see your reply in your eyes. He frowns a little, and slides off your lap, stretching his legs into your lap as a replacement but it’s not the same. You miss the closeness already. He sighs and flops down dramatically. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Come _on_ ,” he whines again, drawing out the words. “You’ve already had my dick in your mouth, there’s no reason to think you’re going to ruin my innocence or whatever.”

When he’s that vulgar, you can’t help but think that you’re rubbing off on him too much. You know he makes a really good point, but you shake your head and lean it against the back of the couch. You were not expecting to have this conversation so early in the morning.

“That was under different circumstances. You were mad at me.”

He sits up on his elbows, “I’m mad at you now.”

You sigh. He grins. You still can’t hate him.

“I just want to take it slow, okay? Any relationship can start off sexual and then keep rising up from there until we just have sex twenty-four hours of the day,” you push his legs off you and crawl up beside him. He turns to face you and you drape one arm around his waist. “But…I want to be different than that? I know that sounds weird because I’m in my thirties and you’re like, some horny teenager. But I want this to be more worthwhile in the long run. I want to learn about you. So that way when we do the full thing it matters. I want us both to be sure we’re ready to take that leap; because once we do it’ll change everything. You think it won’t now, but trust me. It always does. Whether it’s for better or worse depends on how slow we take it. I don’t want you to grow to regret me.”  


He’s silent, and you’re not sure how long he’s silent for but it’s agonizingly long. He moves closer to you, face in your shirt and arm snaking around your hip. You take that as a good sign.

“Why do you have to be so smart about everything?” he asks, and you laugh and kiss the side of his head.

“Because you’re so dumb about everything.”

He huffs and looks up at you.

“I am not. Only about relationship things.”

You grin even though he can’t see it, “And that’s why I’m here.”

He yawns and snuggles closer to you. You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of his hair. This is nice, no more pressure to go beyond the small touching and making out. You can finally appreciate it for how perfect it is. His breathing is soft and even. You fall asleep to the rhythm.

==>

You wake up, once again, empty-handed. Only this time, you see John sitting on the floor in front of you. You ruffle his hair and he turns immediately, smile wide.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

You grumble and sit up. The clock on the cable box reads just past noon, and you groan. Dave will be coming home soon. By now he’s used to you being out until who knows when for extended periods of time, but you still like hanging with him every so often.

“I should probably be leaving soon,” you announce. He turns to you and nods with a frown. The both of you stand, you grab your shades from the table, and he walks with you up the stairs to his room. Most of your stuff is together anyway, so packing takes about five seconds (significantly shorter than yesterday afternoon, you note to yourself). You pull your pants back on and grab the handle of your bag. John is staring at you, and you stare back until finally he crosses the room and wraps his arms around your waist. Yours go around his shoulders and he looks up at you smiling.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

You can’t help but smile down at him.

“No. No, it wasn’t.”

==>  
The rest of the weekend passes way too quickly and much too soon you find yourself back at work. It’s the middle of the morning rush and Gamzee is handling drive thru while you work the counter and you have not seen a sign of John. Now that you think about it, you hadn’t really heard much from him since Sunday night. You had been texting him all weekend, and Sunday was no different until around seven when he became a bit more distant. When you questioned him, he told you it was nothing and that he’d talk to you on Monday but now that it’s Monday and he’s late. The line doesn’t show any sign of stopping, and then he finally comes in. He stands at the end; not looking at you which is rather uncharacteristic of him and it alerts you to the fact that something must still be bothering him. Each time someone comes into the store, he lets him or her cut in front of him until finally he is the very end. Gamzee is back to helping you on the counter and you wait until the last person leaves before taking John’s order, Gamzee pretends to be cleaning behind you. You know he’s listening in. It’s pretty much expected of him at this point.

“So what’s bothering you?” You ask, already making his usual hot chocolate.

“Well…it’s really nothing _that_ bad honestly...it’s just,” he cuts himself off and bites his lower lip. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “My dad cleaned my room at some point on Sunday and found one of your shirts and now he wants you to come over for dinner.”

He said it all so fast you almost didn’t catch all of it. It wasn’t until Gamzee snickered behind you that you realize you hadn’t misheard. Dinner. With his dad. You were pretty convinced that kind of thing only happens in romantic comedies and you were even more convinced that you weren’t living in some shitty romantic comedy, but now the whole universe is having a laugh at your expense. And the worst part is you can’t say no, that’s the coward way out. And Striders aren’t cowards.

“When?” you finally ask.

He thinks for a minute, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Friday around six?”

“I’ll be there.”

He grins and takes his drink, telling you he doesn’t have time to stay but he’ll text you later. He still looks a bit troubled by something, but you don't have time to ask him about it before he's out the door. That’s fine with you, it gives you time to mentally prepare yourself for this at least somewhat. As soon as John leaves, Gamzee starts laughing. You throw an empty cup at him and he swats it away.

“I’m sorry, Bro. But I just…picturing you dressed all motherfucking fancy for a dinner with the parents is probably one of the greatest mental images I’ve had in a long time.”

“What am I going to do?”

He thinks for a minute and cracks a grin, “Just be yourself.”

You roll your eyes and start the cleaning he should have been doing as he chuckles at his own sarcastic advice. You decide to get new friends; it’s your only option you have left.

“Really though, I wouldn’t stress it. The more you stress about it now, the worse you’re going to make it for yourself later on.”

You take back your mental note for new friends. That just might be the most sound advice Gamzee has ever given you.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author makes another attempt at writing for Dad and sucks at coming up with good nightclub names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems kind of redundant to apologize for the wait between chapters, but I am going to anyway. I know I said it'd be out by the end of last week but the weekend kind of snuck up on me. This weekend is Katsucon, and I def wanted to get the chapter out before then especially when I'll be busy. I actually finished typing this up at the bus station and ON the bus itself (this chapter brought to you by Greyhound). There was a lot of drama in the brojohn tag not too long ago (it seems to have calmed down, thank god) so I guess this chapter is dedicated to all the haters who seemed to have forgotten that age of consent is a thing. Also to point out that Bro isn't always displayed as a pedophile who can't keep his hands to himself. Except for when pianos are involved. Anyway, cheers! And thank you for all your support you guys are amazing.

Your closet is as haunting to you as it was on the day of John's recital, and your nerves are helping as much now as they were then. Cal sits up on your dresser, making comments and trying to help narrow your clothing options down from mildly embarrassing to somewhat decent. You can't wear what you wore to the recital. If you know the kind of person his dad is, you know he'll assume that's the only nice thing you own. And you can't give him the satisfaction in being right (even if he kind of is).

You check your phone for the umpteenth time, to no avail. John is still MIA. His texts have become infrequent to the point where the last time he responded to you was last night when you asked if dinner was still happening, he said yes. You asked if he was busy, he said no but his dad needed his help getting everything ready. Before that he hadn’t texted you for at least two days. His visits to Starbucks last only long enough to get his hot chocolate. You wouldn’t be too worried about this (you’re Bro Strider, you never worry) if it wasn’t coupled with the fact that he just looks sad every time you see him. It seems like he drags himself along more, like the spring in his step got all tangled up. You’re sure it’s nothing you’ve done, but you’re determined to make this night the best night ever, to prove to his dad that you’re not some creep.

You push aside clothes in your closet and come across a clear dry cleaner bag revealing a black three-piece suit and white tie. You haven’t seen this in years; you thought you got rid of it after the funeral.

“I owe him this,” you say to Cal as you pull the suit out and drape it across your bed. He doesn’t say anything, because he just knows. The zipper pierces the silence and you remove the clothes from the hanger. You decide that the jacket and vest would be a bit too much, so you gently hang those on the back of your computer chair. The pants are a bit snug, but you can manage, and the shirt still fits perfect. You keep the tie, though. You gotta make a shout out to fifteen-year-old you for liking baggier clothes. And for your metabolism for never slowing down on you. After you’re dressed you turn to Cal and he nods his approval. Getting ready doesn’t take long after that, and you’re out the door before Dave can question you. It’s better that way, you think.

==>

The drive to John’s house feels longer than usual, but you arrive right on time. You look up in time to see his figure dash away from his bedroom window and you can’t help your grin. It’s the first sign of excitement he’s shown in a while, and you’re more than accepting of it. Before you can even make it to the door, he’s already opened it and runs to you, almost knocking you over with the force of his hug. You wrap your arms around him tightly. You’re thankful for this because you were worried you won’t be able to get him alone at all tonight.

“Okay, so before you go in there, there’s a couple things you need to know about my dad,” he says as he pulls away. You nod, tempted to tell him you’ve already had a small chat with his dad but your curiosity about what he has to say keeps you quiet. “He can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be. And I’m pretty sure he knows something is going on, but he’d never flat out say so. He’ll try to trap you, to figure out a way he can twist your words to find out what he wants to know. He’s got those Dad Super Powers, but I’m pretty sure his are amplified by his Prankster’s Gambit. Don’t let him corner you. I’m sure after dinner he’s going to make me do the dishes so he can take you his study and be able to talk to you alone, so be on your guard.”

You smirk, “When am I ever not on guard? I was able to resist you for months.”

“I’m being serious here, asshole!” he says, but he smiles and you melt a little because you haven’t seen that smile in what feels like too long and you’re not surprised to find that it still has the power to sweep you off your feet. “Just be cool.”

“Kid, you’re talking to Dirk Strider. Cool is all I know.”

He groans and grabs your hand, leading you to his house. He lets go as soon as he gets you inside and closes the door, stepping back so you can kick off your shoes and he motions for you to follow him into the kitchen. To your amazement it actually looks cleaner than when you were over. His dad is at the counter, apron tied over his suit, finising the last of the dinner preparations. It smells so good. You mentally curse the Egbert name. It should be against the law to be this good at cooking.

“Dad, Dirk is here,” John announces and the older Egbert wipes his hands on his apron before turning to you. He’s got a pipe in his mouth. Is there anything this guy does that doesn’t reek of class?

“Broderick, nice of you to join us this evening,” his dad greets and extends his hand. You shake it and shrug.

“Pleasure’s all mine, sir. Thanks for inviting me.”

He turns back to the oven and shakes his head, “Getting to know your son’s friends is one of the many joys of being a father. Jonathan, why don’t you go set the table? I’m sure Broderick would like to sit down.”

John grabs the plates, cups, and silverware from their respective places and balances them all in his hands as he walks to the dining room. You follow, deciding that the best course of action would be to minimize your alone time with Mr. Egbert until it’s inescapable. But you figure it’ll happen like John said, and that’s fine with you. If you can make it through this sure to be awkward dinner you will call the whole night a victory regardless of what happens later. You sit in one of the chairs at the table and John places a plate in front of you. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes you.

His dad comes out moments later (sans pipe) with the trays of food balanced expertly in his arms. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a waiter at some five star restaurant instead of a part time business man and full time single father. Maybe it’s the other way around, you have no idea. The food gets placed in the center of the table and despite what you may have believed before, there is no holding hands and saying grace before John dives right into the pot roast and mashed potatoes, lathering every inch of his plate in gravy. You’re a bit more civil with how you scoop the food onto your plate, and unlike John forever showing how barbaric he can be; you take special care to make sure your mouth is fully closed while you chew. Dadbert movements are slow and precise, like he carefully thought out his actions before executing them. He does this with everything, you decide. You’re suddenly very nervous and fascinated with the designs on the plate.

“So, Broderick. I hear you are quite the musician,” John’s dad says as he cuts the pot roast swiftly with one flick of the knife’s blade. You try to ignore the symbolism you could place on it.

“I guess, if you would call a DJ a musician.”

The older man shrugs, “You still dabble in the creation of music, which is a very respectable profession. No need to be modest, we’re a very musically inclined family. A fact of which, I’m sure you’re already aware of seeing as how you showed up at John’s recital not too long ago.”

You had been wondering how long it would take before that got brought up. Still you brush it off, giving no physical inclination that the words bothered you in anyway. They really shouldn’t have, but the way he said them almost felt accusatory. Though what he was accusing you of, you don’t know.

“Yeah but it’s hardly anything too special. Not the kind of music you’d listen to while you sip bourbon, that’s for sure.”

He chuckles, “I’m more of a scotch person myself.”

==>

The meal itself passes with no real cause for alarm, which you’re relieved about. Though the last half was rather hard to sit through, since John had taken a liking to rubbing his socked foot against your leg from across the table. You liked it more than you’d care to admit. You blame the danger of getting caught.

At the end of dinner, as predicted, John’s dad invites you upstairs while John cleans off the dishes. He leads you to his study, which has a couple tall bookshelves. A carved desk sits in front of them, papers stacked neatly on its surface, being held in place by a wooden box with a glass top that you see holds a pipe. A standing coatrack is off to one side, two fedoras hanging from the higher pegs and a couple of suit jackets perched on the lower ones. The carpet is plush under your feet. The only thing throwing it off from a standard businessman office is the black safe that sits proudly in the far corner. You sit in the brown overstuffed armchair and he leans against the desk facing you. It seems casual enough, though you’re sure the topic of conversation is far from.

“I think you know the reason you’re here is more than just getting a shirt and having dinner,” he starts all traces of polite stay at home dad out of his voice. You bet he talks to his employees this way. The ones who step out of line or file a paper wrong.

“I had a feeling,” you say trying hard to keep your voice even.

He unbuttons the clasps on his shirtsleeves, rolling them up to his elbows while he speaks.

“Broderick, my son is very important to me. After losing his mother, I find that I have become rather overprotective, as any father would. I am smarter to think of Jonathan as anything more than a young adult. He’s not a child by any means, but he doesn’t have the same understanding and life experience you and I do.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and nod, unsure of where this is going.

“Part of that experience,” he continues looking you right in the eyes and you would shrink down if you wanted to give him the satisfaction of getting a response from you. “Is interacting with others in your age group, something Jonathan has not had the opportunity to do because of my previously mentioned overprotection. But I do not wish to stunt him, Broderick. Which is why I have decided to place him in public school. He starts Monday.”

The shock of the words hits you more than the fact that they aren’t coming from John. But knowing this, it all makes sense. He has been growing distant lately, and you know him better than to think that he didn’t think of you when he found this out as well. This cuts out pretty much all the time you had to spend with him. You’ll have weekends, but you doubt that will be enough for you. Beats of silence pass between you and John’s father as he studies your face for any sign of reaction. You have long since mastered the art of appearing emotionless even without your shades, but you still hope that he finds nothing. How could this happen? Just as you and John had finally started getting good ground, he’s pulled away from you and all you can do is stand there and watch. It would be selfish of you to pull him back, and he deserves more than just a tug-of-war. You can’t help but want it anyway. You’ve never exactly been a selfless person, so you aren’t surprised by your irrational longing to tell his dad no. You want to tell his dad that all John needs is you. But that’s crazy, a lot crazier than you’d ever want to be in relationships. And considering your current relationship is with a sixteen-year-old, you have even less say in the matter. You bite your tongue to stop from cursing the man in front of you, and finally give a response. You shrug and lean back in the chair.

“Okay? One less customer to pretend to care about,” you say and feel a wave of fresh guilt. It pains you to talk about John that way, even if it is just for appearances.

He quirks an eyebrow, obviously just as surprised by your words as you were for how quickly you formed them.

“This news doesn’t shake you?”

“Nope. Can’t say it does. Why? Were you hoping for a breakdown?”

Because you could give him one, if that’s what he wanted. You’re close enough.

His mouth forms a thin line sternly. Up till now, he had a kind of whimsical look about him. He’s got his father face on, and you can see the age lines in his face more prominently. You didn’t peg him as the type to really get serious, which you feel stupid for because you should have known all along.

“Broderick, I am going to be frank with you. I want you to pay attention, because I am only going to say this once. You can consider it a warning if you want, but I would just call it friendly advice. I have told you before my son’s happiness is very important to me, and I meant that then as much as I do now. I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with him, he won’t tell me, and I am smarter than to assume you will. I do know however, that whatever kind of relationship you two have, he has been the happiest I have ever seen him, so I will stay out of it for now. I have trust in my son that he knows what he’s doing and he can make the right choices, as I’ve said before he isn’t a child. But just know that if I think for a minute you are stringing him along and being unfair to him, I will not hesitate to show you how deep my fatherly love runs. Do we have an understanding?”

Your blood freezes in your veins and he pushes off his desk and crosses behind it, sitting in the computer chair and not breaking eye contact with you. Your assumptions of this man have been so far off the mark that it’s actually pretty astounding to you. You can’t get your mouth open to say anything, throat dry and all thought process cut off, so you just nod. He seems pleased regardless.

“Good. I’m glad we had this talk.”

You stand and walk toward the door, happy to be leaving this room and getting your peace of mind back.

“Oh and Broderick, next time you work at The Black Spades, be sure to say hi to Mr. Noir for me. Jack is a very dear friend of mine.”

You don’t turn back to look at him, don’t say anything. You cross the doorway and float down the stairs, his last words ringing loudly in your head. It sounded almost threatening, like if he became unhappy with how you treated his son, he would pull his strings and you’d be out a job. Not that you really needed it, but DJing kept you sane when the coffee shop made you want to rip your hair out, and Spades was the best place. Losing it would be like losing Dave. You walk to the kitchen and see John still scrubbing plates. You flashstep behind him before he can sense your presence and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into you and making him drop the plate and sponge. He wipes his hands on his jeans and turns to face you, arms wrapping around your waist. You say nothing, and neither does he, contenting yourself to hiding your face in his hair and being consumed by his touch and his smell. When he pulls away, it feels too soon, but he doesn’t leave your grasp completely. He looks up at you, you look down at him. At least he’s smiling.

“So, you’re starting school Monday,” you state and his smile falters and his eyes become more interested in the floor. “I’m not mad, John. But why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

His eyes snap back up to you and there’s panic in them, “I didn’t know how! I was so nervous that it would scare you, that it would finally hit you that you’re with a high school kid and I just…I didn’t want you to have that revelation or that midlife crisis or whatever! I know it’s selfish, but I didn’t want to change anything. I was going to tell you. Monday morning when I didn’t show up, I was gonna wait for a text from you asking where I was and I was going to reply I was at school and just kind of…see how that went. Stupid Dad, ruining everything with his stern fatherly-“

You cut off his ranting with a small kiss to his lips, and he lets out a surprised squeak. When you pull away, he looks calmer.

“Well, as great as that plan was, I would have liked to know sooner than Monday morning,” you say and he frowns slightly. You run a hand through his hair. “But if it makes you feel any better, you didn’t have to worry about all that. I mean, it hits me that you’re sixteen every time I see you. I get the revelation I’m with a sixteen-year-old every time we’re making out and you bite my lip or get too excited and all but rut against my leg like a dog in heat.”

His cheeks flush, and you chuckle at his expense, “What I’m trying to say is that your age will probably nag at me until you’re eighteen. I haven’t learned to mute the voice that tells me you’re too young for this, but I’ve learned how to tune it out.”

“Okay,” he says and he sounds relieved. He wraps his arms around you and his face is in your collarbone. “I can live with that.”

He lets you go and you help him finish the dishes before leaving. When you get home, Cal is sitting on the futon asking how it went. You tell him everything, from the encounter with John’s dad, to talking to John in the kitchen. He listens to you, dead glass eyes looking back at you with as little judgment as possible and when you’re done he’s quick to ask if you’re sure you’re okay with this. He tells you things you haven’t even thought of. John will be exposed to kids his age; he might meet someone better than you, someone he decides he likes more. Kids are fickle, he concludes. You carry him to the bedroom and start to get undressed, the nice clothes starting to feel like a straightjacket the longer you wear them.

“I never deluded myself into thinking what he has for me will last. I guess we’ll just cross that bridge when we get to it.”

That seems to please him, because he says nothing about it the rest of the night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro is a nervous wreck, forcing Gamzee to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. WOOOW. It's been a long and strange year, and even though it's been over for a week, it still feels like I'm in 2014 mode. I just want to say thank you for everyone who read, and commented, and kudos'd when I was MIA. You have no idea how happy I was to get those emails. And a huge I'm sorry for how long it took to churn this out, it was never meant to be this long. I actually wanted to get this out back when the very first update happened in October...but you know what they say about best laid plans. :/ Thank you all so much for your patience, and your constant support. I'm working on Chapter 17 right now, and HOPEFULLY that'll be out much sooner than this was. Just...thank you all, so so much. <3

When Monday rolls around, you have to remind yourself constantly that John won’t be showing up when you expect him to. The weekend had been perfect, full of trips to the movies or to the park, that by the time Sunday night came along, it almost felt like nothing was changing. You forced yourself to go to work, even though you didn’t really feel up to it, because you needed to distract yourself from how quiet your day is going to be. At least serving coffee to loud-mouthed hipsters will fill you with a sense of purpose. Gamzee shows up, about five minutes late, grinning widely like always but you glare at him. At least you feel like glaring, you probably look as emotionless as always.

“You’re late,” you observe. Your tone sounds no different than your usual work tone. But he looks at you with a raised eyebrow as he crosses behind the counter and puts the headset over his ear.

“Yeah,” he says. There’s a moment of silence while you wait for an excuse and he waits for you to get the point.

“Do you mind explaining what was so important that you couldn’t get to work on time?”

“Bro, seriously? When have I ever been to work on time? I show up at this time every day, and you’ve never expressed a problem with it before.”

You look away from him, because fuck that was a really good point. You had no reason for getting on his case about it in the first place, other than to wipe the smile off his face.

“What’s buggin’ you, big guy?” He asks, his eyebrows knit in concern. You should have known he would have picked up on something. Though it’s not like you were great at hiding it in the first place.

“Well, I went to that dinner at John’s on Friday,” you start and hope you can form the words as you go along. Gamzee has never been judgmental, but this is a pretty big bomb you’re about to drop. He nods encouragingly. “I ended up having a conversation with his dad. Long story short, he’s in school right now.”

Gamzee frowned, eyebrows knitted tightly. He looks genuinely concerned, and that makes you feel bad for snapping at him. He’s always been there for you and you shouldn’t take your bad mood out on him.

“I think I’m just mostly upset by how much his dad knows,” you continue. “He told me about the school thing before John did, and I’m pretty sure that the whole dinner thing was his idea in the first place. He knows more than he lets on. But he’s not gonna ask questions.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about him if he’s not going to go out of his way to cause problems,” Gamzee starts. His features relax while he talks. “You should keep a close eye on him when you can, for sure, but if he’s not gonna be all up in your business then I’d just brush him off. Sounds like he’s trying to get inside your head.”

The first customer of the day comes up to the drive-thru. Gamzee takes the order, and you make it, and while you go through the motions of making some stupidly complex latte, you think about what he said. It amazes you how effortlessly Gamzee can be your voice of reason, especially when he doesn’t look the part at all. You decide you’re going to make your behavior up to him later when he least expects it. He should know how appreciative you are for all his hard work, as one of your employees, and as your therapist as well.

“If simply ignoring him doesn’t work though,” Gamzee says as the satisfied customer drives away. “I got something that’ll take the edge off.”

You sigh, “Gamzee, I’m not smoking dope with you.”

This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned wanting to get you high. It’s not even that you’re against drugs, you smoked a lot in college, but you’re not that guy anymore. You’re an adult. With responsibilities. Weed is for young people. Though you suppose drinking isn’t much healthier.

“C’mon, Bro! You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“If I’ve lived without it this long, I don’t think I’m missing it very much.”

He frowns, but gives up. Once the morning rush is done you pass the time with cleaning, and casual conversations with Gamzee. You’re distracting yourself from your phone, even going as far as leave it in your car while you’re working. You don’t want to text John until he texts you first. You don’t want to be overbearing, you want him to feel free to go out and make friends and create the public school experience he never had. Besides, you know deep down there’s nothing to worry about. You’re more than sure you’d be able to take a high school kid in a fight if it came down to a duel to the death for John’s heart. Cal was totally overthinking when he said that stuff. What’s the worst that could possibly happen? It’s not like your bro-

A shudder convulses your body and you grip the counter tightly to stay upright as your knees buckle. Gamzee raises an eyebrow at you, completely caught off guard from your sudden lack of control but you have no time to give him an explanation. You run out to your car and check your phone. It’s only twelve in the afternoon, and John texted you once when his second class was done, and then again to let you know he was on lunch and he hopes he hears from you soon. You curse out loud and feel like hitting your head against the steering wheel. You send him a quick text back, and pocket your phone. You can’t ask him, it would be too suspicious. And what would you even say?

“Dude…what was that about?” Gamzee asks as you walk back inside.

“I suddenly remembered something,” you say and you’re trying to figure out how to put it into words. “He’s going to the same high school as my little brother.”

Gamzee’s look turns from bewilderment to amusement so quickly you have to wonder if it hurt. Anything nice you were planning to do for him, you quickly forget about because there’s no way you’re going to be nice to the guy who gets so much enjoyment out of watching you suffer. As if your life is some daytime soap opera he records on TiVo to watch again later.

“I’m sure everything’s going to be fine,” he replies but the twinkle in his eye betrays any sympathy he tries to convey.

“Yeah, whatever. Just remember this the next time you have a problem.”

“Bro, seriously. It’s not my fault these unfortunate, yet slightly entertaining things happen to you. You’re like the protagonist in some motherfuckin’ shoujo anime. All going after your girl and shit, yet minor setbacks keep popping up. It’s classic. I have to keep watching to know if you get the girl.”

You feel your eyebrow twitch, “I’m sure you meant that to be supportive, but surprisingly I can’t help but feel like I need to start looking for new friends.”

He grins, “Like anyone else would put up with your shit.”

“Get back to work, I don’t pay you to stand around.”

Gamzee laughs so hard, his snorts sound like honking bike horns. 

==>

The next time you hear from John, it’s after school gets out and you’re heading to your car after your shift. He tells you he’s already made a friend and that they’re going to come over to his house to play games, but he’ll be thinking of you and he really misses you and he promises to come by tomorrow. You sigh, but smile anyway because that’s really more reassurance than you needed, and you think it’s cute he went out of his way to make you feel better. When you get home, Dave isn’t there yet which isn’t anything new. Your little brother is popular, especially with the ladies you hear, so he’s busy after school nearly every day of the week.

Without anything left to do to pass the time, you record some videos for your site and upload them. By the time you’re done, the whole living room is covered in stuffing and felt. You yawn when you stand and check the time. It’s a little after eight and Dave still isn’t home yet. Just as you’re about to get your phone to text him, the apartment door opens.

“I’m home,” he announces as he closes the door. You sit on the futon and watch him kick his shoes off and put his bag next to the door. He takes the seat next to you, and sighs. “You couldn’t have cleaned up before I got home?”

“Relax, Princess I just finished. Besides, it’s not like I even knew when you were coming home.”

He scoffs, “And you seemed so worried about me too with how often you were up my ass checking up on me. I couldn’t even breathe with all the smothering.”

You shrug, “If something happened you couldn’t handle, you would have called. Not like it’s close to curfew anyway.”

“I guess.”

“Fine, I’ll play the role of concerned guardian. What do you think you’re doing getting home so late on a school night? Were you out with those hoodlums again?”

“Amazing, Bro. It’s almost like you’re a real parent now.”

You know he likes it when you act like a real parent instead of just his older brother, though you don't do so very often. When you do, it feels sarcastic in away. Like you're doing some kind of role-play and filling shoes you never intended. You think he feels the same way about it, only his role is supposed to be Angry-Nobody-Understands-Me Teenager. It's a fun game, at least you think so.

“Shut up and just tell me, it’s obvious you want to so bad.” You pick up the remote and start flipping casually through channels.

He sighs dramatically, “I just went over to a friend’s house. We watched some movies, did homework; I ate a home cooked meal for once. It was actually kind of nice.”

“That’s good. Glad you had fun, kid.”

He settles into the couch next to you and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. You don’t say anything to him, and he doesn’t say anything to you. You finally land on some scripted reality show and you spend the next three hours making fun of it with him. It’s nice bonding with Dave like this, and it makes you wish you could do it more often. You think he misses spending time with you as much as you do, but neither one of you would ever openly admit it. You know you don’t have the most traditional relationship with him, but he is still the most important person in your life. It makes you sad to think you’d grow apart, even if he is in his teenage rebellion years. You would never say any of this to him, but you think he knows anyway, and you think he feels the same.

By the time the marathon is over, he has his head on your shoulder, and you can tell from how is chest is rising and falling that he’s pretty much passed out at this point. You’re feeling pretty exhausted too. You send John a good night text so he doesn’t worry, and lean your head against the back of the futon. You’re too drained to get up, and you wouldn’t want to wake Dave up anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cute things happen~

Your hand tugs lightly at the untamable black hair on your boyfriend’s head. His body is pressed tight against you as close as it can be with the center console trying its hardest to keep you two apart. His hands desperately claw at your back through your shirt; his mouth moving against yours in a rhythm controlled by you. The last time you made out in a car you were his age, and that thought tries to pull you out of the moment but you won’t let it. Nothing in the world could ruin this moment for you. When he pulls away you’re both left gasping for breath, smiling wide at each other after getting out at least a small bit of the pent up aggression. When was the last time you kissed John like this? Probably not since the sleepover, and when you think about that it feels like it was further than just a couple weeks ago. With everything that’s happened, it feels like it’s been closer to years. 

“Remind me again why we have to make out in your car when you have an apartment?” John asks, shifting away from the plastic that’s been digging into his side while he’s been trying to remain close to you.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little fresh air,” you reply and he just rolls his eyes. The fact of the matter is, you don’t want to risk running into Dave. He doesn’t always tell you when he’s going to be out, so you never have any way of knowing. Dave and John meeting would have been awkward before, but you can’t take any chances now that they go to the same school. 

“But this is so uncomfortable, and I can’t be close to you here,” he protests and you understand his complaints. The angle feels wrong, and it’s hard to touch him when the centerpiece gets in the way. This is the closest you’ve been together in days and you can’t even really enjoy it. “Why can’t we go to my house? Dad won’t be home for awhile.”

You hadn’t even thought of that as an option. The tension between his dad and you being what it is, you try not to think about his house as often as you can. You don’t want to poke the bear, as the phrase goes. You’re also pretty sure no matter how secretive you were about it, somehow the older Egbert would know you had been there. He seems to always know, and it creeps you out slightly. 

“That would be awkward,” you say and he scrunches his face in protest, but doesn’t reply. Deep down, he knows you’re right. He leans forward in his seat and opens up your glove box, pulling out the shades you’ve long since stopped wearing his presence. He puts them on and when he turns to look at you, you can’t help laughing. You’ve always thought they were ridiculous-that was the point in wearing them after all, but they didn’t fit John’s face at all. The ends seemed to poke out a lot farther than they did on you and he kept having to push them back up. Seeing him wear them and try to impersonate you was pretty adorable though.

“Why do you wear these anyway?” he asks you while he puts them back and turns back to you. It was such a sudden question, but you aren’t caught off guard by his prying anymore. You like being open with him anyway.

“My bro has sensitive eyes,” you start. “He’s not blind or anything but light really gets to him, so he has to wear sunglasses pretty much all the time. I didn’t want him thinking there was anything seriously wrong with him. I thought that if he saw me wearing them too that he would feel better about it because he’d associate it with being cool or something. That probably sounds kind of stupid.”

He smiles and climbs over the center console, straddling your lap as best he can. You’ve been in the same position in the same location years and years ago and you can sympathize with how uncomfortable he probably feels, but he’s wearing the discomfort pretty well. He plants a small kiss on your lips and then leans his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid at all,” he whispers. The reassurance makes your heart flutter and time seems to slow down.

==>

You and John come up with an every-other-day meeting schedule. It’s not the best setup, you of course would prefer to see him every day, but he wants to be able to spend time with friends so you suppose it’s a fair trade off. You want him to be able to be a normal kid. A normal kid with a boyfriend half his age and a billion dollar sex puppet enterprise, but a normal kid nonetheless. Weekends are open, however. That suits you fine. There’s less chance of an awkward moment with Dave that way.

You haven’t asked Dave or John if they’ve run into each other, and John hasn’t mentioned anything to make you think he’s met anyone that looks like you. The main reason you haven’t brought it up yourself to end your stress over it is mostly because you’re scared of the answer. If they haven’t met, you don’t want to have Dave question how you know anyone in his class, and you don’t want to tip John off to the fact that your bro is close by, that would be like inviting him to come up with some elaborate prank. On the other hand you would have no idea how you’d react if they did know each other. That would add another layer of awkward to the Awkward Cake your relationship has become. Who knew that trying to maintain a healthy relationship with a high schooler while you yourself have been out of high school for over a decade would be so difficult? 

You spend your shift on Wednesday joking around with Gamzee. He fills you in on a party he attended the night before. The idea of a party on a Tuesday strikes you as odd, and he’s quick to inform you that that was the entire point. You mentally give kudos to the host or hostess, if only you had known about it. When you get home you’re more exhausted then you expect to be and collapse on the futon next to Lil Cal. He reminds you of the backlog you have going on Plush Rump. As your business partner there’s only so much he can do. And of course, the fact he’s not real also plays a pretty big role in his usefulness. 

In the time it takes for Dave to get home, you make a lot of progress filling some orders and recording some footage. You’re in the final stages of editing by the time you hear the door closing.

“Jesus Christ, Bro. One day I’m going to come home and the living room won’t look like a snowpocolypse of puppet guts and that will be the happiest day of my life.”

You smirk to yourself without looking up from your work, “that’ll be the day you find the mess in the kitchen.”

His disgruntled mumbling as he walks to his room is all the satisfaction you need. But it comes as no surprise to you, you usually have the last word in these frequent battles of wit. You’re sure one day he’ll have the upper hand though. You’re not too worried about it, that day probably won’t come for a long time and even when it does you’ll proud of him anyway. 

John texts you saying he won’t be able to make it for tomorrow. You’re more than a little upset. Even though it had only been a day since you last saw him, the schedule was the only thing keeping you from going completely crazy. Almost as if sensing your upset, a follow up text reads that he will be free Friday. You suppose that’s a fair trade, and you suppose you can make it that long. 

You let him know that will work for you and put the finishing touches on your new video. You also make a mental note to find out Dave’s afterschool plans for Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes in honor of Homestuck ending, and also from my re-reading through the entire 7 acts again. It's been along time, I'm not sure how much of my reader base is still active, but I welcome new readers as well.
> 
> Although if you're reading this chances are you've already read all 16 other chapters so at that point are you even still new and if you're starting from the end then what the heck yo? Anyway, I plan to update this more regularly within the upcoming week. I mentioned in previous chapters that there's One Scene that I have been the most excited to write, well that's finally coming up. Yeah i've been working on this for about 3 years and that one scene has not left my head. Anyway, cheers!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, lads......four years in the making.......
> 
> *Phil Collins voice* I've been waiting for this moment....for all my life.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided I'm gonna stop trying to set a schedule for when I update this, but I have like 4 other chapters written out so that'll be a thing. To my old readers who waited a year for this, thanks for putting up with my shit all this time, this one's for you as much as it for me. To the new readers who read all 17 chapters because they saw this updated, hey and welcome.
> 
> God bless brojohn. I can't believe I've been trapped in this hellship for at least 4 years and god be damned if I haven't enjoyed every second of it.

Dave texts you Friday afternoon and tells you he has plans after school that will run a little long. You send a text to John that you have a surprise for him, and slip your phone back in your pocket. You’ve been long overdue for alone time in a comfortable place, and you know he’ll be excited when you pull up to your apartment complex. The rest of your shift goes by rather uneventfully, and you say your goodbye to Gamzee as you punch out. There’s an extra spring in your step today, and you untie your apron as you walk across the parking lot. There’s a figure leaning against your passenger side door that becomes more recognizable the closer you get to your car and you can’t hold back your grin. When he sees you getting closer he straightens and unable to control yourself, you flashstep to him and wrap your arms around him. He giggles at the sudden contact, but returns the hug instantly.

“Dirk,” John whines but doesn’t make an attempt to pull away as you bend down and plant kisses to his forehead and nose. “What’s the surprise?”

You release him and open the door for him, “You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

==>

The drive home is filled with him talking excitedly about his day, and you let him. With the exception of Dave, you never thought you’d care so much about the day to day life of a high school student, but you find yourself asking John questions about how he’s liking his teachers, the classes, if he’s thought about joining any clubs. You’ve been out of school for such a long time that you can’t really relate to some of his struggles, but you listen anyway and try to offer him advice when you can. The talk keeps him distracted enough that he doesn’t notice you’ve pulled down the road to your apartment until he sees the building coming up.

“Oh my god!” he squeals and jumps excitedly, this was totally worth everything you decide. His seatbelt is already unbuckled as you pull into your parking space and he’s already out the door before you turn the car off. You chuckle at his enthusiasm and catch up to him quickly, wrapping an arm around his waist for a brief moment. He practically runs up the stairs, you opting to walk a bit more casually for no other reason than to tease him a bit. 

When you get up to the landing he throws himself onto you, pushing you against the door to your apartment, his lips finding yours in an instant. You’re able to unlock the door and kick it open without breaking the kiss and you thank your reflexes for that more than anything. You pick him up and walk backwards into your apartment, kicking the door closed as you his tongue enters your mouth. His knees settle against your hips and you pull away as you drop to the futon. He barely gives you a second to settle in before lips find yours again instantly, fingers buried in your hair, and your hands move up and down his sides. He shivers at the touch, pressing into you. You don’t fight him off this time and focus your attention on deepening the kiss instead. It’s sloppy, neither of you really caring about finding a perfect rhythm. Your hands slide lower than his hips, gliding across his ass without really thinking about it and he moans against your mouth and pushes his hips against yours and you don’t fight him off from that either, dragging your fingernails against the denim covering his thighs. He finally breaks the kiss and he gasps for breath but smiling and leans his forehead against yours as he allows the air to flow through his lungs again. You give him a few seconds and kiss him again, less hungry this time but more passionate and he meets your passion tenfold. This is going a lot further than you anticipated and you hadn’t realized how much you missed feeling his body against you until you felt his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt and his fingers grazing across your abs. You feel his fingers dig into your hips as you bite his bottom lip playfully and now it’s your turn to moan. Sure he’s touched you before but never this desperate and you’re not at all shocked to find that you’re desperate for him too. 

He pulls away from you again, panting breaths against your ear that make you shiver. Your hands are settled on his hips and his fingers are curled ever so slightly under the waistband of your jeans. You can’t find the energy to push his hands away, you can’t even find the energy to care that they’re there to begin with.

“Dirk,” he whispers finally and you can feel his lips touch your ear as he forms the word. You slide a hand up his back in response. “Please.” 

“Please what?” You whisper back into his ear and you feel his hips respond, pressing into you again. Teasing him as always been your favorite pastime, you’ve missed it.

He whines and tugs at your jeans, “I need more.” 

“So why don’t you take it?” 

The words barely leave your mouth before he’s down on his knees in front of you, fingers fumbling with the button your pants. He looks up at you as he unzips them, expecting you to push him away but you lean back against the futon and raise your hips instead, making the job of sliding your jeans down to your ankles easier for him. The air is cold against your legs but other parts of you feel incredibly warm and John’s cheeks are flushed with the most beautiful shade of light pink. He moves closer to you, and you spread your legs to accommodate for him, his eyes never leaving your crotch. The tent that had been forming since the start of your foreplay is impossible to hide now and you see his eyes widen, obviously not expecting the size at all. You can't help the feeling of pride as he admires the outline your boxers formed around it.

“You should see it naked,” you tease, and he looks up at you as if only just remembering you’re even there. “If you want.” 

He swallows and nods, and you adjust yourself so your dick pokes out through the hole of the boxers and his attention is drawn back down again, and once again you see his eyes widen as if only now realizing the exact size. The hand he brings up to it is shaking, and you bite your lip as he finally wraps his fingers around it.

“It’s so big,” he breathes which you think is more to himself than to you but you can’t help but acknowledge it anyway.

“Seven inches is about average.”

He shakes his head and scoots even closer, “I mean it’s so….thick.”

“All the better to fill you with, my dear.”

His face flushes a few shades darker, that has to have been the most bold thing you’ve said to him and imagery makes your dick ache. The logical part of you checked out the minute you entered the apartment. All those make out sessions in the car hadn’t been enough, after all. He gives your dick a few slow strokes, and you let out a sigh that turns into a moan as he quickens his pace. Before you can fully enjoy the sensation his hand stops at the base and when you look down to question him, you find your answer in the form of him lowering his head down and wrapping his lips around your cock’s swollen tip. Many have done this before, but the way he hesitates and then looks up at you gives you a totally new spin on the experience. Your eyes meet his as you feel him give a small suck to the tip of your dick. You breathe out a moan, his blue eyes turning you on far more than the action. This is John, you think to yourself and your hand finds his head and rubs through his hair.

“Use your tongue a little,” you advise. He breaks eye contact from you and concentrates on his task. You feel his tongue slide against the sensitive underside of your penis head while he sucks gently on the tip. You wish he’d go lower, but you don’t want to push him too far until he thinks he’s ready. His comfort is more important than your pleasure. As if reading your mind, his mouth swallows a bit more of your dick and pulls back up, sucking on the tip before he goes back down using his saliva to mark where he had been. The action makes you tighten the grip on his hair and you’re thankful he takes that as the sign of encouragement you hoped he would because you’re honestly not sure if you would have been able to form words.

His tongue stimulates the underside of your dick while his lips suck you from all sides. As he starts to get comfortable his pace quickens and your moans become more vocal though you keep them quiet enough that they don't leak beyond your apartment walls. After a few bobs up and down he tries to get ambitious, taking more of you in his mouth than he had before and he chokes a little, pulling back instantly. The vibration causes your hand to pull his hair as you buck your hips slightly into his mouth. He doesn’t seem put off by your reaction, and you make a mental note to tone it down. Face fucking is something you’re into, but maybe after he does this a few more times. You hope there’s more times.

You don’t have to tell him to use his hand, he swirls his tongue around your penis head and his hand wraps around the section of your dick he can’t fit in his mouth. As he lowers back down you feel his hand move down too and the sensation causes a louder moan to escape for your lips but you control it quickly. He gets used to the rhythm and his paces becomes faster, letting out little moans himself when he hears yours, which have become increasingly hard to hold back though you’ve managed to keep the quiet. You find yourself wondering where he’s learned to do this as your head leans against the back of the futon and you’re tempted to ask but you don’t want to sound like you’re complaining and you sure as shit don’t want to give him an excuse to stop. _Maybe he learned it from you _. The thought makes you pull his hair again, the idea that you're corrupting him makes your dick pulse, and you see his hips buck a little. You’ve had received so many blowjobs that you’ve lost count but this inexperienced one has surpassed them all. The energy he’s putting into it feels like he’s worshipping your dick which only adds to the good feeling on top of how you already felt whenever you lock eyes with John. He’s keeping his eyes closed more often now, but from the moans and the way his head refuses to slow down you’re assuming he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. Your eyes close and you run your fingers gently through his hair, pulling slightly when he does something you appreciate with his tongue.__

____

____

“Hey, bro. I got out earlier than I- what the fuck.” 

Your eyes snap open within seconds and you instinctively push John off you. You hear him fall to the floor and you’ve never been more thankful for your speed than in the moment it takes you to pull your pants up, although whether it’s from all the years of training or adrenaline you can’t really say. Dave is looking at you and you’re looking back at him, on your feet now and John sits up from beneath you but you don’t dare to look at him. In your peripheral vision you see John look at you confused, and the follow your gaze to where you’re focused. When he realizes the situation, he hides back under the coffee table but it’s too late for hiding now. 

“I’m gonna go to my room,” Dave says finally. You suddenly hate that you’ve taught him to maintain what you call the Strider Indifference. “I’m gonna go to my room, and when I come back out I want an explanation for all of this.”

He leaves just as quickly as his presence was announced. When his door shuts you finally look down at John and lock eyes with him. He crawls out from his hiding place and sits on the futon, and you join him. You doubt your knees can hold you for very much longer anyway.

He lets out a chuckle that turns into a laugh, “Man,” he says between giggles. “That was awkward.”

He laughs harder. It’s then that you realize he’s just as nervous as you are, and although you’re still terrified you look at him as his laughter settles into a smile. You can’t help laughing a little too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on how the last chapter ended, you all know what it is. Some of you have waited a long time for this.

When you hear Dave’s door open any good feeling you had immediately gets replaced by dread. You don’t hear him walk down the hall, but he appears in front of you almost instantly. His face is unreadable. That’s just as nerve wracking to you as any emotion could have been, his arms are crossed in front of his chest, and he’s standing straighter than you’ve ever seen him. You feel like a teenager about to get scolded by his parent. The idea would make you laugh if the mood wasn’t so serious. Hell, Dave has probably picked up on the irony too and in any normal circumstance you would have already pounded fists together and started playing Tony Hawk or Mad Snacks. But this wasn’t the typical irony-filled bonding experience, and it’s making you loathe it instead.

“Well,” he says finally in his usual even tone. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

John lowers his head to look at his hands in his lap, and you feel kind of bad for wanting to laugh. Little shit probably rehearsed this while he was in his room. You feel proud of him. He’s finally getting the upper hand on you. But seeing John embarrassed and scared kills your proud brother vibe a little. Now isn’t the time.

“I’m sorry?” You offer, and your voice makes John raise his head back up at Dave, who just looks between the two of you and sighs.

“How the fuck do you to even know each other?” He asks, probably trying to address the least awkward part about this whole situation first.

“We met at starbucks please don’t be mad at Dirk it’s my fault,” John speaks before you do. You’ve heard him talk fast plenty of times; you’ve heard him go on long excited rants about Matthew McConaughey and Con Air more times than you could count. You’ve never heard him talk quite that fast before. Eminem would be out a job if you put a beat down over it.

Dave lowers his aviators slightly and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You’re on a first name basis?!” His voice raises only slightly, the power of it startling not only you, but him too. He pushes his glasses back up, puts his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. “How the fuck did this happen? One minute you’re just that dorky new kid with shitty taste in movies but alright taste in video games and a dad who can cook like a god, and the next you’re going on down on my older brother like his dick contains the meaning of life.”

You can’t help but snort a little, and both teenagers turn their attention to you. John looks at you like a deer in the headlights, and Dave well you can’t see his eyes but you guess he’s probably glaring at you. This is his big moment after all. You slump back into the futon and raise an eyebrow at him, and he turns back to John.

“I mean it’s kind of a long story, Dave,” John starts as he makes eye contact with Dave. “But I promise I never intended for you to find out like this! And I mean, I was gonna tell you I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I couldn’t think of a way to.”

Suddenly it all clicks. They’ve known each other this whole time. You recall Dave coming home from a friend’s house and saying something about how he had a home cooked meal, and at the time you had just brushed it off. Normal parents cook all the time, you thought it was a jab at your parenting. How were you supposed to take that as a red flag? But it’s all coming together and you’re no longer finding anything amusing in this situation. 

“It’s my fault,” you say, mirroring John’s earlier outburst. “I invited him here, so don’t be mad at him, okay? We can strife it out later if you want, but I’m the one to blame for all of this.”

Dave sits Indian style on the floor and sighs, “Bro, you think I’m mad? You’ve done so much weird shit that honestly I’ve become desensitized to anything you could possibly do next.” He tosses his sunglasses on the table and rubs his eyes a little at the difference in light. “I’m just confused. I mean, yeah I’m kind of ‘what the fuck’ because I just walked in on my best friend going to town on my brother but I can’t even really say I’m pissed because the one time I mentioned to John I had a brother he started asking all these fucking questions like ‘what’s his favorite color?’ ‘what does he like to do in his free time?’ and I had to be like ‘dude, chill I’m not a fucking personal ad in the newspaper I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime’ little did I know, I guess.”

You bite back your smile, and out of the corner of your eye you see John hide his face in his hands and sink into the futon, probably embarrassed at Dave’s reveal. The kid never did have a knack of knowing when to shut up. It's nice to see someone else on the receiving end of it for a change. You don't feel bad for finding John's reaction adorable either.

“Why didn’t you just tell me then, dude?” Dave asks John, who lowers his hands and smiles sheepishly. He’s blushing slightly. God, he's going to be the death of you.

“I was just scared I guess! I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about why we were hanging out. I just,” John pauses and chews on his lip a little trying to figure out to say. “I’ve only ever had one real life friend and I just didn’t wanna fuck anything up by being like ‘haha, I already know him! We kiss a lot!’ like I thought that’d make everything awkward.”

“Yeah because me walking in on you kissing his dick is so much less awkward.”

John groans, and once again you laugh a little. Dave approaches the table to grab his shades again, getting closer to the two of you and he slides the dark aviators back onto his face. The light is kind of bright in the apartment, you observe and make a mental note to invest in dimmer switches and curtains. He folds his arms on the coffee table and looks between the two of you. It reminds you of being in John’s Dad’s study. There's not as much tension in the air though, even if it is still slightly uncomfortable.

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” he says finally. “It’ll also be awhile before this mental image leaves my head. I don’t know. It’s just weird. Rose always said you had unique taste but I just thought she meant the puppet thing.”

“Age gap is a new thing for me, if it makes you feel better,” you say in response and he just scoffs.

“I’d rather not see it again,” and you think that’s fair. “I’d also rather that if I invite him over it kinda doesn’t get in the way? Like I want him to be my guest? I’m not trying to be Lord Montague here but it’d be really shitty if I have my best homey over and he goes off to make out with my brother behind my back.”

“Dave, I wouldn’t have done that anyway,” John says softly. “I’ve never been in this kinda thing before but even I know that’s a fucked up thing to do.” 

Dave relaxes a bit more. 

“Yeah, thanks John I-” his sentence stops suddenly and his head snaps back to you so quickly you’re hoping he didn’t get whiplash. “Bro. Bro, no.”

“What?” You ask him. You aren’t trying to an asshole, you honestly have no idea what you could have done this time.

“Lil John the puppet are you fucking kidding me?” He stands to his feet and starts pacing the room. “We’re getting soundproofing. We are soundproofing this entire fucking apartment.”

“Dave what-” John begins, but Dave doesn’t stop his rambling.

“There’s a lot of shit happening I never thought I’d have to deal with. Rose was like ‘I know that situation sounds awkward, David, but their relationship has probably been going on for awhile outside of you.’ And I was like yeah okay that makes sense I’ll keep an open mind to this, whatever. But now it all fucking makes sense and-”

“Dave,” your voice is loud enough to silence him but he knows you aren’t mad. He stops his pacing and sits back down at the coffee table. “I’ll look into soundproofing.” 

“Thank you,” he says. John’s eyes shift between the two of you obviously confused.

“Do I want to know what this is all about?” he asks.

“Sorry, John. I got you confused with Lil Cal’s puppet boyfriend,” Dave responds. John doesn’t look any less confused by the answer, or by your grin, but he doesn’t press the issues further.

“Who’s Rose?” he opts to ask instead.

“My therapist,” Dave says and puts his head down on the table. 

“Remember the woman I told you about that adopted Dave and I?” You ask, giving John a serious answer. He looks at you and nods. “Rose is her daughter, same age as Dave. She’s basically our sister.”

“That’s cute,” John replies nonchalantly and it gives you an idea. You scoot closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and your other hand raises to his chin. You turn his head so he looks at you.

“Not as cute as you, my little bean sprout,” you say back to him and you hear Dave groan and throw himself backward to the floor. John’s look of confusion is replaced by amusement and he laughs as he pulls away from you.

“That’s another rule,” Dave shouts from the floor. “No sappy shit while I’m in the room.”

John’s laughing turns to giggling and he gets off the futon to join your brother on the floor, sitting next to him. “You’re my best friend too, Dave.”

“Don’t come near me I don’t wanna know what my bro’s dick smells like.”

“It’s not _that_ bad!” 

“Oh my god, fucking make a breath mint out of it then. Call it Essence De Strider. You can get Bro to list it on his website right next to his smuppets. Watch all his fans go nuts over his nuts.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” you praise. 

“Cool. I’m glad I can finally contribute to your sex empire. I’ve never felt more accomplished. Better patent that shit before you make me the Tesla to your Edison.”

“Dave,” John says, “I meant I don't think it's strong? Like, you can't smell it from there.”

You laugh and Dave turns away from him, “Well fuck me then, I guess. I’m the weirdo in this room. All those years of questionable parenting choices finally caught up to me.” He rolls back over. “I was speaking metaphorically. You don’t have to fuck me.”

John let’s out a small laugh, “I hadn’t planned on it.”

Dave pushes himself up. He’s never been one to sit still too long unless he’s really focusing on something. He crosses the room and joins you on the futon, sitting next to you. He regards you silently for awhile and you’re unsure what to do. You find his eyes behind his shades and you both sit like that for awhile before he breaks the eye contact first and relaxes against the back of the futon.

“You owe me dinner,” he says finally. You stand up and go to the next room to place an order for Dominos. He’s right, after all. It’s the least you could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwback reference to a chapter posted 4 years ago hell yeah. Teases of Rose?! Is this becoming one of THOSE BroJohn fics?
> 
> Probably.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little fluff for your peanut butter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting back into the swing of things feels really, really great by the way.

The rest of Friday passes with the three of you playing videos games and eating pizza. Around midnight Dave announces that while being the third wheel has been fun, he’s going to bed. John is about to say something, but you stop him by putting a hand on his knee. If Dave really had been that uncomfortable, he would have left a lot sooner. You figure he’s going to make these types of jokes for a while, and that’s alright with you. You like that a lot better than him hating either of you. When Dave leaves, John falls against you and you wrap an arm around him. It’s been the first physical contact in hours, but you’re too exhausted and filled with pizza to get worked up about it. 

“Tired?” You ask and feel him nod against your shoulder. “Let’s get you home, then.” 

The two of you stand, and he stretches before hugging you. You’re quick to return the hug, placing a kiss gently to the top of his head and he rubs against your chest. Chin between your pecs he looks up at you, eyes half closed in exhaustion but smiling nonetheless. You smile down at him and he puckers his lips which makes you chuckle before bending to kiss him. Satisfied, he releases you and slips his shoes on, and you do as well. You pick your keys up from where they had fallen 10 hours earlier and it amazes you how much had happened in such a short amount of time as you walk down the stairs with John following close behind. It’s a perfect Texas night, you think to yourself. The stars are in full view, and it’s not too humid or too cold. You grab John’s hand as you walk to your car and he leans some of his weight on you. The perfect ending to a weird day, if only you could take him to a field and point out constellations together. If only he could stay the night and you could finish where you left off, maybe even show him something new. You shake that thought out of your head as you open the passenger side door for him. It’s much too late to get a boner.

“I’m sorry,” John says as you start the car and his voice startles you a little bit.

“What?” You ask, pulling out of your parking space and onto the road.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I met Dave. I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish what we started.”

“Neither are a big deal. I was too scared to ask if you met him, and worse things have happened than not being able to blow my load. I’ll live.”

John giggles at your blunt response, “I liked it a lot by the way.”

Your hand finds his in the dark, “I’m glad.”

“Does that mean we can do it more often?” He asks eagerly, and you laugh and give his hand a squeeze.

“Why don’t we save it for special occasions?” You tease. The next time his dad goes away or the next time Dave is gone for the weekend sound special enough to you.

“Great so I have to wait for Christmas to finish you off.”

“If you could even wait that long.”

He scoffs, “You’ll crack before I do, old man.”

“Challenge accepted,” you say grinning.

“Yeah, you’re on.”

“It’s a shame though,” you say as you pull down his road. “Dave usually spends the night at friends’ houses on the weekends.”

You feel him shift toward you, “What?” 

“Yeah, so I mean if we timed it right we could have had all this alone time together to just hook up. But you wanna wait till-”

“You win,” he cuts off you instantly. “I cave. You win.”

You laugh and park the car in his driveway, turning the headlights off. You shift toward him and put your hands on either side of his cheeks and kiss him softly. His fingers wrap against your gloves as much as he can but he doesn’t pull you away as he returns your kiss. His lips are gentle, and you can taste a little of the pizza sauce still on them. He ends the kiss before you do, but continues to hold your hand and you let him. You’re in no hurry to send him off, and no lights have turned on inside the house so you assume his dad is still asleep. The light from the porch is just barely visible, but your car is still cloaked in darkness so you aren’t too worried. You’re too focused on John to be worried.

“I guess this is goodnight,” he says but doesn’t move to leave. Instead he raises your hand and kisses your fingertips. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he slides his tongue down the bit of your index finger that isn't covered by your glove and wraps his lips around it, sucking hard and slow and it takes everything in your power to stay in your seat. His mouth is warm and it feels nice. You let out a soft, content sigh as you feel your pants tighten. So much for it being too late for boners. 

He pulls back with a wet pop as your eyes are about to close, “Little something to remember me by.” He exits the car giggling, and you feel as though he still will be by the time he reaches his room.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff had the Nacho Party. This fic has the Bro party.
> 
> Saturday was a big day

Your eyes snap open sooner than you would have usually liked them to on a Saturday morning. Your phone is loudly buzzing against your nightstand and you groan, your eyes not even opening as you feel around for it. You squint against the brightness and check the caller ID. Figures, he can never be on time with anything.

“Noir,” you choke groggily. It’s too early for this shit. It’s too early for a lot of shit. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need you tonight, Strider. I hate doing this to you last minute, but the other guy bailed. I’ll pay you double if you can do this for me.”

He sounds desperate enough that you can forgive him for interrupting your beauty sleep. Of course the pay also sparks your interest, but you shake your head.

“You know I don’t need the bribe, Noir.”

“I know you don’t, consider it a tip for the short notice.”

“If you insist,” you accept the offer mostly because you’re too tired to keep resisting and if he’s willing to pay there’s not much else to say on the matter. He can be pretty stubborn and you’d rather not deal with it right now. You flesh out the rest of the details, and he thanks you before hanging up. You look at the time. It’s only eleven? You groan and sit up. There’s no point in going back to bed now. You send a good morning text to John as you push off your blanket. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pull your sweatpants on over the boxers you passed out in and walk into the living room. Dave is sitting on the futon eating cereal and you join him wordlessly, stretching your legs onto the coffee table. He’s watching _Pimp My Ride_ reruns. You have no complaints about this.

“This dude likes hot dogs,” he says to you. “So they wanna put a hot dog cooker in his car so he can grill on the go.”

You snort, “a classic episode if there ever was one.”

He hands you the bowl of Lucky Charms and you take it. The oat pieces are a little soggy but you don’t mind too much, “I was on my second bowl anyway and you look like you need a sugar rush.”

You grunt in response, mouth full of marshmallows and you both watch as Xzibit shows the car off to the owner. You put the bowl of leftover milk on the table and finally feel awake enough to fully acknowledge your brother.

“I have to work tonight,” you tell him. He doesn’t look away from the TV, but you didn’t really expect him to.

“That sucks,” he replies. It catches you off guard. Normally he asks you what your setlist is gonna be, what the theme for the night is. There was a slight edge to his tone. To anyone else it would have sounded like Normal Dave. You’ve known him for almost seventeen years, you raised him for almost seventeen years. This is Nervous Dave.

“Yeah,” you start slowly. “So I’ll probably be gone most of the night.”

“That’s usually what happens when you DJ at Spades.”

You grab the remote from the table and turn the TV off. Now he has no choice but to turn towards you. His shades obscure his eyes from yours, but that’s alright. You never have any problems making eye contact with him.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” You ask bluntly. 

“Nothing’s going on,” he shrugs.

“You’re acting twitchy.”

“Am not.”

“Dave,” you warn. You both could on forever with the ‘am not’ ’are too’ sibling bullshit but now isn’t the time. He sighs and then groans, hands rubbing his cheeks a little and now you’re even more concerned. “If something’s bothering you, you tell me. If you’re feeling awkward because of the John thing-”

“It’s not about John okay?” He snaps. He realizes his tone a half second later and sighs again. “Sorry, it’s just. I have something really important I want to ask you about but it’s just weird.”

You didn’t expect a sincere response so quickly. That’s a good sign, you figure so you press further.

“I’m not your dad, dude. You can ask me anything.” 

He smirks a little at that, and you feel his body language relax a little.

“Alright so backstory,” he says. “There’s this chick who is in all of my classes, like no exaggeration I was thinking about getting a restraining order because it was like ‘damn this chick is just following me around,’ but I didn’t do that because we got seated next to each other in sociology and she’s actually really chill. We spend most of the time drawing pictures for each other, she’ll draw something and then I add onto it and it becomes this huge thing.”

Dave isn’t looking at you anymore, he’s looking at the bowl of milk on the table but it’s alright because it just means he can’t see the grin on your face. Dave has never told you about crushes before. Sure, he’s told you after party stories that have made you surprised kids these days still play Seven Minutes in Heaven, but he’s never expressed feelings for any of those girls. You feel your chest swell with fatherly pride.

“We’ve never hung out outside of school though,” he continues. “Well, not on our own anyway. And yesterday at lunch John was like ‘dude just ask her out,’ and I was like ‘bro I can’t just do that that’s so uncool’ and John was like ‘don’t be such a baby’ so after lunch when we had sociology it was my turn to draw something first and I decided to just go for it. I drew this giant dong and I wrote ‘wanna hang out tomorrow’ in it like the world’s ugliest and most ironic tattoo and she drew a flower coming out of the tip and was like ‘alone?’ and I drew roots coming out of the flower so the shaft looks all veiny and said ‘yeah’ and she said ‘sure’ and so I guess I have a date later.”

You lean forward and ruffle Dave's hair. The unexpected display of affection makes him jump a little, and he knocks your hand away.

"C'mon Bro, you're supposed to be cool," he protests and you can't help but grin wider.

"But my little man is all grown up now."

He rolls his eyes, "I'm having a crisis and you're turning it into a sappy bonding experience."

"Okay, okay. I don't see what the problem is though? She said yes. Take her out, wine and dine her. It's not hard."

"Well, the thing is...I invited her here to play video games. Have it be intimate, you know? She's hung out with me in group settings but this is my first time giving her the Strider Charm alone."

You nod, the full weight of the situation finally setting in.

"And when I thought you were gonna be here it wasn't a huge deal, you know? Cause you'd be there to kind of like...do that adult lingering thing. Where your presence is known and every once in awhile you awkwardly appear right as we're about to get the mac on."

"I was your out to keep you from fucking up?"

"Yeah, exactly. See you get it."

You can't help but chuckle. Your brother has a way of making things so needlessly complicated sometimes. You have no idea where he could have gotten that from.

"Just don't sweat it," you reassure him. "She added a flower to the end of your dick so she's probably interested in you enough to not give a shit if you're awkward as hell."

"Don't say it like that. It sounds creepy when you say it like that." 

"Point is you'll be fine."

"You're okay with this?" He asks and you raise an eyebrow. "Like, me having a girl over with the apartment to myself?"

"It'd be kind of hypocritical of me considering what you walked in on yesterday."

He seems satisfied with that answer and turns the TV back on. The _Pimp My Ride_ marathon is still going strong and you watch a few more episodes with him, texting John every so often. He tells you he and his dad are going on some father-son camping thing, and that eases your guilt about having to work. You'd have to say it was a good morning.


	22. Chapter 22

You had texted Gamzee earlier in the afternoon asking if he'd like to help you out with your set again and he responds with an eager YoU kNoW iT mOtHeRfUcKeR :o). You pull up to his duplex and honk your car's horn. It's a few minutes before the door opens and you think you see a cloud of smoke pour onto the stoop as you see your friend. He has the same blissful look on his face that he always does. You almost want to ask him how much he smoked, but you decide against it. You think it's better not knowing.

"Sup, Bro?" He greets casually as you pull away from the curb. 

"Same old," you reply and he chuckles.

"I feel you on that, my man."

He keeps the conversation going until you reach the club. You can't help but notice the line of people that starting to extend down the block as you circle around to the back of the building. There's still about two hours before doors open. Word must have gotten out that you were performing tonight. You give Noir a mental kudos, guy knows how to network.

Black Spades isn't close to the largest venue you've performed in, but you keep coming back because nothing beats the hometown vibe. Gamzee helps you unload your turntable from the trunk. With the seats pushed down there's just barely enough room to fit it and your duffel of equipment. You're not sure why you've never invested in a bigger car, it's not like you can't afford it. Maybe you're subconsciously trying to avoid being a Texas stereotype.

Before you start bringing your turntable up, you run to the door and ring the small doorbell to announce your arrival. It's a few moments before the door is pushed open but it's not the usual security guy that greets you. You're taken aback by the bright smile that isn't at all diminished by your shades. You suddenly realize it's been a couple months since you last spoke to Jake and this was one of the last places you wanted to break that streak. Before you could flashstep the fuck out, he claps a heavy hand on your shoulder.

"Strider!" His voice is as booming as you remember. You’re glad you have Gamzee and your show to set up for to give you an easy out.

“Hey,” you say as you shrug out of his grasp. You kick the cinder block in front of the door to keep it propped open. “I’m kind of trying to get ready for my set, so uh. Gotta keep the reunion to a minimum.”

He backs off a bit, “of course! Both of us slacking off on the job probably won’t be good for the boss.” He winks a little and you roll your eyes behind your shades. “But we will catch up later, yeah?”

“Sure,” you promise loosely. Who knows both of you will probably be too busy once the doors open for any actual meetup to take place. Plus you know security isn’t supposed to drink on the job. Nothing is stopping you from hanging out at the bar until your set is ready just in case. He seems satisfied enough with your response and gives you one last friendly grin before walking back into the club. You return to Gamzee, who apparently wasted no time rolling a joint in your absence. He no doubt saw the whole thing and while you don’t think he heard anything that was said, he can probably tell you’re a bit on edge still. He offers the unlit, freshly rolled smoke to you and you look at it. You haven’t done this since college.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says which has been an unspoken rule between you two for as long as you can remember. “But I just kinda figured you could use a motherfucking stress relief.”

Before giving yourself a chance to really think about it, you take the offered joint from him and he pulls his lighter from his pocket, handing you that as well. You light it and take a puff, letting the smoke fill your lungs before you exhale. You already feel your shoulders relax. You take one more hit and pass it back to Gamzee.

“I hate to be that guy, but I think I’m gonna need a blunt to get through this,” you say only slightly joking. He takes his own puffs and laughs as he passes it back to you.

“Mi casa su casa or whatever, motherfucker,” he responds and you laugh too. When the joint is finished and you feel sufficiently high, you sling your duffel across your shoulder and both of you grab the opposite ends for your turntable. It isn’t exactly heavy, although that’s probably because you’re used to lifting a lot more weight. Gamzee doesn’t struggle as much as he used to with it, and you can see little bulges in his bicep. He’s been working out, you note but not in the ‘checking him out’ way but more in the the supportive friend way.

==>

The stairs that lead up to the booth are always the hardest part of bringing the equipment in, but you both manage just fine. As you set up your equipment, Gamzee is behind you working on the blunt you had requested earlier. Whenever you play at Spades, you’re always happy with how easy the setup is. If you were any more cocky you would think they set the booth up each week under the assumption you were going to play that weekend. The setup is smooth, the soundcheck is perfect. There’s still an hour before doors open and you sit back with Gamzee in one of the stools next to him. You pass the blunt back and forth, the orange flavor of the wrap he used feels comfortable and makes the smoke taste citrusy. By the time it’s smoked down enough that only ash remains, you feel like you’re on cloud nine, maybe even cloud eleven if such a cloud number existed. 

“You know what would be really cool right now?” you ask him, breaking the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. If anything it was more of a sign you were enjoying each other’s company.

“What’s that?” he responds.

“John being here,” you say matter of fact, and you hear him laugh.

“Maybe one day.”

“I appreciate you being here,” you say to him. 

He nudges you with his elbow, “I know, Bro. But I like you’re being all feelings jam and shit. It’s cool. You’re probably one of my best friends.”

The words make you smile internally, but you shove him playfully anyway. You walk over to the glass of the DJ booth and watch as people start to file inside. Some flock to the dancefloor, some to the bar where you can vaguely make out Cronus and his co workers pouring and mixing drinks for the crowd. You cross over to your laptop and throw on your warm-up playlist. You’re the main event but you tease the crowd with some of your remixes that you work on just for fun. You watch the smaller opening act set up on the stage below you and feel Gamzee’s presence next to you.

“Remember when you used play down there?” he asks you, and it makes you laugh. 

“Barely.”

When you played down there you used to imagine what it’d be like to be the main headliner. Now that you are, you’d give anything to be that intimate with the audience again. If you had to think of one complaint about Spades, that would be it. Any other venue and you wouldn’t feel as though you were kept separate from the people who raised you up here in the first place.

“Let’s go to the bar,” you offer to Gamzee. There’s still a few hours at least before you’re expected to DJ. “You can put it on my tab.” 

These words are what make Gamzee stand from his barstool, and you follow him down the stairs. The only way to the bar from the booth is through the crowd. It’s still thin enough that you aren’t too concerned about getting separated or lost from Gamzee. There’s a few fans who ask for selfies or a hug and you comply with these requests, because they’re simple enough. When you get to the bar, you pull your phone out. There’s no text from John, which doesn't surprise you. You text him a quick message how you miss him and slip your phone back into your pocket. Dave hasn’t texted you, so you assume everything is good as far as he is concerned. It’s still pretty early in his date, though. When you take your seat next to Gamzee, Cornus is the first one in front of you.

“Bro!” He greets you and the high five you share is powerful enough to cause your hand to sting.

“Cronus,” you greet, smiling to see even him. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was the overall feeling that this time seeing these people feels a lot better than last time. Last time, you were drinking to forget. This time, you wanted to just have a good time. 

“Need any liquid confidence tonight?” He asks over the steadily growing crowd.

“Only whatever my boy wants. It’s on me tonight,” you tell him. Of course Cronus and Gamzee know each other pretty well at this point. Cronus seems a little amused by your unusual display of excitement but says nothing about it. He does pour you a beer though, which you suppose you’re grateful for.

“So what’s new with you, buddy? Any girlfriend? Boyfriend?” You drink half the beer in one go and set it down. Cronus chokes and almost pours the alcohol he’s mixing up for Gamzee on the counter instead of in the glass. You and Gamzee exchange amused glances at his expense. He composes himself in time to fix his mistake, and slides the full glass to your friend. 

“I don’t know,” he replies as though nothing out of the ordinary happened. “The girls around here just don’t get me. They don’t appreciate what I have to offer.”

You forgot this guy can be a bit of a neckbeard.

“Don’t worry,” Gamzee offers. “If your love life doesn’t work out you can always be a bartender.”

You hide your forming grin behind your glass, shaking with silent laughter. Cronus doesn’t look nearly as amused as you, however.

“Gamzee, I’m already a bartender,” he deadpans. His tone doesn’t steer Gamzee off his good mood though.

“And you’re a great one!” He says enthusiastically. 

The hurt look on Cronus’s face keeps you from cackling until he walks away. You and Gamzee lean against each other, his honking snorts making you laugh even harder. As the sound fades you cough to regain breath, you make the mental note to smoke with Gamzee more often. You finish wiping the tears from your eyes and feel a nervous finger tap your shoulder. The person in front of you when you turn the barstool around looks like he barely turned eighteen. The sides of his hair are shaved and the strip that remains isn’t styled in spikes, but slicked back a little. You’ve never seen a mohawk like that before but the look suits him just fine. He’s wearing typical club clothes. This is his first time here, you figure. The blue sash around him that says “happy birthday” is another clue to you. You see his friends huddled not too far away, whispering to each other. They probably put him up to this; the poor kid looks scared as hell. Inwardly you smile and notice the napkin he’s gripping tightly in his hand. 

“E-excuse me,” you can barely hear him over the music. Gamzee turns in his stool now too. That just makes the kid tense up even more. “I hate to bother you. You’re probably really busy. Yeah you must be really busy, I’m sorry.”

You smirk and push your shades up, “I’m not too busy.”

“O-oh, well...uh. God, shit. Actually what I mean to say is,” he sighs and looks down, but then he looks back up at Gamzee, and then to you. “I was just wondering, if it’s not too much trouble, it’s probably really stupid since you’re local and all but I was just wondering if you could, I don’t know.”

“You want an autograph?” You offer gently. You feel this kid has been through enough. His eyes light up brighter than the club’s lights and his smile reminds you why you keep doing this. “Sure, kid. That’s no problem at all. Who am I making it out to?”

His body language visibly relaxes as he hands you the napkin.

“My name is Tavros!” He says with such confidence that you almost wonder if he got replaced by someone else. You chuckle and Gamzee hands you a sharpie.

“It’s your birthday, huh? The big one-eight?” 

“Yeah! My party was already gonna come here, since it’s the best club in the area, but when we saw the event page that you were going to be here we came and stood in line earlier than we were planning,” the lights in the club can’t hide his blush when he realizes he probably said too much. 

“Damn, so you’ve been here since this morning?” You ask as you write your note to him on the napkin and punctuate it with a small drawing of your shades, signing your name next to it.

He shifts awkwardly, “Y-yeah.” He hesitates and worries on his lip before deciding to talk. “You’re, uh. You’re a big inspiration for me. I, um. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without you and your music.”

The words hit you hard and you have to push your shades back down. In the years that you’ve been doing this you’ve heard a lot of things. You’ve heard people tell you how much they love you, they love your music. You’ve seen budding artists reference you in their descriptions, saying they got inspiration for their track from some song by you. Never have you heard anyone say that you specifically inspired them. Never have you heard it so sincerely. Maybe it’s the weed and the beer finally mixing together, but you feel like you could cry. The feeling brings you back to when you were a teenager, listening to Dr. Dre in your room and feeling a connection to the music so strong you knew it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. You hand the napkin back to him and let him read the small note you wrote; he’s beaming. You’ve probably made his entire birthday.

“Why don’t you grab your friends and come up to the booth?” The words leave you before you can register that you’ve said them. You’ve never invited a fan up to the booth before. You feel Gamzee’s eyes on you, but he says nothing. He understands, you decide. 

Tavros freezes, trying to scan your face. But he’s not good at reading you like John is.

“You’re serious?” He asks breathlessly, like he’s scared it was just a dream. 

You grin, “Yeah. Happy birthday.”

He gingerly places the napkin in the pocket of his shirt and runs back to his three friends. You watch their faces as he tells them about the invite. Their looks of disbelief are priceless as they walk toward you. Gamzee chuckles.

“You’re like motherfucking Disney, Bro. Making dreams come true,” he says and puts an arm around your shoulder. You return the gesture, chest swelling with pride when Tavros joins you again.


	23. Chapter 23

Your posse returns to the booth as your music stops and the first act starts. There’s only two stools up here, so you radio someone to bring you a few more. A voice tells you they’ll be right on it. While you wait you can’t help but watch as Tavros admires your setup. It took you awhile to save up mostly because you were really picky about what equipment you wanted to buy; although Dave’s version of the story is you kept chickening out instead of hitting 'confirm order.' You had downloaded different computer programs for mixing before buying your beloved turntable, wanting to get a feel for it all. You still use some of those early tracks you made for your pre-show playlist. How can you know where you want to go if you don’t remember where you’ve been?

“After these guys finish up you can fiddle with it if you want,” you say and he jumps because he didn’t expect you to be behind him.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve already bothered you enough,” he says sheepishly. A dude who looks like a slightly older, taller version of him with dark red hair puts his arm around his neck and pulls him down for a nuggie. When they straighten out Tavros looks embarrassed, but his assailant is grinning. You’re reminded of you and Dave.

“Stop being so modest, Tav,” the guy chastises him playfully and turns to you. “He can be so shy.”

You smile, “I can understand his position. If Dre pulled me into the studio I’d probably be shitting myself. I say this an adult.”

Your confession is punctuated with a wink to Tavros before you remember it’s hidden by your shades. He grins appreciatively anyway, and when the other guy laughs it spreads through the whole room and settles warmly.

“I’m Tav’s brother Rufioh,” he tells you and before you can say anything Gamzee collides into him doing the crow call from Hook. Rufioh doesn’t seem put off by it at all, in fact he joins Gamzee. He’s probably used to the reference by now. At least he’s a good sport about it.

==>

You learn the other two are Mituna and Latula, that apart from Tavros they’re around Gamzee’s age of twenty-three, and that Mituna is in competition with Tavros for being the quiet one. Latula sits with him, holding his hand, but talks with you wildly about video games. When you tell her you’ve beaten _Mad Snacks Yo_ she actually squeals in excitement. Gamzee is talking to Tavros and Rufioh in the corner, neither look scared so you figure everything’s okay. 

The bang on the door interrupts the flow you have going and you excuse yourself from the conversation you’re having with Latula. You hear the performer on stage end his set. The timing doesn’t bother you, security was probably busy and stools are probably the last thing they’d be concerned with even if it was you that requested them. Jake’s broad grin greets you when open the door. Maybe it’s just you, but the air seems to take on a different vibe when you move aside to let him in and empty his arms.

“My word, Strider,” he says looking around the room. “Sure is quite the rub you have up here!”

Mituna leans into Latula, “Who the fuck even talks like that?” She nudges him but covers her mouth to muffle her giggles. You think it was intended to be a whisper but decide to buy Mituna a drink later anyway.

“Yeah,” you say shortly. He doesn’t leave. Everyone is looking at the two of you. “So...sup?”

“Just working,” he says casually. “I can see you’re entertaining, so I won’t keep you, but I would like to request your presence for a chat before you take off after the gig. If it’s not too much trouble?”

You internally groan, “Sure.” May as well see what he wants. He grins at that and exits. The chatter picks up where it had left off the second the door closes. You take one of the stools and set it next to where Latula is sitting and slump in it. You need a drink, you’re feeling very sober all of a sudden.

“Exes, huh?” She says and gives you a sympathetic look. You nod.

“Ex fuck buddy,” you clarify and she cringes. 

“Those are the worst,” she agrees. You smile and feel a vibration against your leg. She pulls her phone out the same time you do. “I just gotta check this real quick.”

“Me too,” you say. The preview shows a text from Dave. 

dont know why i thought i needed you  
got this shit in the bag  
shes putty in my hands bro  
wrapped around my finger  
also we kissed

You allow yourself to chuckle at your phone and send a supportive Hell yeah. It’s only eight-thirty. You’re not sure how long the date will last but you give him credit for not wasting any time. You hear Latula giggle too as she puts her phone away.

“Sorry about that, my little sister is on a date right now. She’s so cute,” she explains. 

“No shit? My lil bro is too.”

“That’s awesome! Is it going well?” She sounds excited, and it’s infectious.

“Yeah, seems so. They kissed already.” 

She eyes you suspiciously while pulling out her phone again. She re-reads the text she received and looks back at you. Her eyes are shining.

“Get out. You’re fucking with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I have an idea. But first we need more drinks.”

You have no idea how you seem to attract people with such unique senses of humor but you find you’re perfectly okay with it. Latula tugs on Mituna’s hand and the two leave the booth. You call her to put it on your tab and she gives you a thumbs up. Over in the corner you see Tavros, Gamzee, and Rufioh still talking. Gamzee has another blunt wrap in his hand, and he turns to you.

“Come smoke this shit with the King of the Lost Boys,” Gamzee demands. Rufioh rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. You grin, and sit between Gamzee and Tavros. You wrap an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders and you see his jaw drop. 

“There’s still time before the next set starts,” you tell him and he stiffens but you think it’s out of excitement.

“Really it’s-”

“I insist. It would be an honor.” 

His brother and Gamzee are smiling encouragingly and he blushes. 

“Well, I...yeah. Yeah, sure!” There’s newfound confidence in his voice. You hope one day this kid will hold onto it.

The blunt gets passed around the circle, and Gamzee leans across you to teach Tavros how to hold it and the right way to puff on it. You could have very easily done this yourself, but don’t mind. You’ve never seen Gamzee in this mode before. His eyes watch Tavros with intent, and it’s a look that intrigues you. He leans back as Tavros coughs his exhale and the three of you can’t hold back your laugh.

“It happens on the first time,” Gamzee reassures and that seems to calm Tavros as he tries again, and the circle keeps going. You allow the THC to take over your senses. These guys feel like old friends. You want to see more of them after tonight.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter of the party saga. Your regularly scheduled BroJohn will return next chapter.

The four of you are halfway through the second blunt when Latula and Mituna come back, carrying more than just a few drinks. Their arms are filled with bottles and Latula sets them on desk in the far corner. 

“The creepy bartender kept hitting on me after I told him to put it on your tab,” she says. “He kept handing me bottles. I was trying to get him to stop but he said they’re on the house. Let me know if you end up getting charged for this, I’m so sorry.”

“He was hitting on both of us,” Mituna adds shuddering. “Like he kept talking about how liberating threesomes can be.”

You apologize to both of them, “Cronus can be like that. You don’t have to worry about paying me back. Money doesn’t matter to me. I’m like the cooler and upbeat Scrooge McDuck. I got a pool of money in my living room that I dive into whenever I get home.” You’re glad when they laugh because you lost control of yourself for a second there.

They pour themselves drinks and sit back down, and the circle on the floor finishes the last of the blunt. You stand and offer your hand to Tavros. He takes it and wobbles on his feet when he stands. He laughs a little.

“Wow,” he says. You understand the sentiment completely. He follows you to your turntables, and you make sure it’s not set to the main house speakers. The audience present in the booth is probably overwhelming enough for your new, shy friend. 

“Go ahead,” you encourage. When he starts the beat, you’re glad you encourage him. He looks the most at peace he’s been all night. His mini performance doesn’t last very long, since he next set is starting, but everyone in the booth cheers for him. He quickly sits down in a stool next to Gamzee. You want to tell him he's pretty good, but watching him with Gamzee stops you. He looks like he did when he played. Instead you give him a smirk and a thumbs up when you make eye contact. He immediately averts his eyes, blushing. The message was sent loud and clear.

==>

Your set begins at ten, and you’ve never felt more energetic during a set in your life. You had let Latula mix you a few drinks during the brief break, and once again you’re feeling sufficiently crossfaded. Already this night is going so much better than your last gig here; for one, you aren't nearly as sloppy. You’ve never had this much fun unironically before. At least, you’ve never told yourself you’re having fun before. As you spin, the others dance around you. The atmosphere that surrounds you spreads through your fingers; the beats you’re producing echo outside the booth and engulf you in their energy. They ring happily in your ears. You aren’t sure if you’re producing music to fit the mood, or if the mood is producing the music. You’re happy either way. The club’s atmosphere feels the best it has ever felt when you hear the cheers from the crowd below every time you shout out to them. You even got them to sing happy birthday to Tavros at one point. The smile he gives you makes you float even higher.

When the set ends, you’re still high from the afterglow of the performance and the weed. It's been too long since you've felt anything but exhausted after a show. Packing up goes a lot faster with more than two people, you obverse. Latula and Mituna clean up the bottles, while Gamzee and Rufioh bring your turntable down the stairs. Tavros helps you pack up your cables and amps. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” You ask him as you finish up and the four of you walk down the stairs. 

“Are you kidding?” He exclaims. “If someone had told me I’d be spending my eighteenth birthday with Bro Strider, I would have told them they were lying.”

Latula throws her arms around his neck, “And to think, you almost didn’t want to ask for his autograph!”

As you cross the now empty and bright dancefloor, Latula stops.

“Shit! I almost forgot. Bro, come here.”

You hand your duffel to Tavros, who slings it over his shoulder. He seems in awe that he gets to carry your equipment.

“Alright, we’re gonna take a selfie,” she tells you and you join her level. She opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out like Miley Cyrus, rocking the hand symbol for ‘i love you.’ You give your best duck face and peace sign, you put your heads close together, being careful not to poke her eye out with your shades, and she snaps the picture. She shows you, and you think it’s probably the second best thing you’ve seen this weekend.

“What are you gonna do with it?” You aren’t expecting an answer outside of social media posting.

“Your brother’s name is Dave, right?” She replies, ignoring your question.

“Uh, yeah," you answer, not understanding what that has to do with anything.

“Watch this.” She opens her text messages and clicks on the first contact, Terezi. You assume that’s her sister. She selects the paperclip icon and clicks the picture you guys just took. As it loads she types the caption k1ck1ng 1t w1th th3 bro-1n-l4w! After she hits send, she slides her phone in her pocket. You look at her like she's a whole new person. Texas used to seem like a big place to you, but now you're not quite sure if that's the proper assessment. There's one thing you do know, though. If the girl Dave likes is anything like her older sister, Dave would be an idiot if he fucked up it up. Something tells you he won't though.

“If your little bro hurts her, he’s dead meat,” she jokingly warns. Your arm slings around her and you ask her to send you that picture.

==>

When your car is packed, you remember your earlier agreement to talk to Jake. You make sure Gamzee is gonna be alright waiting for you before walking across the parking lot. He’s waves you off, not breaking his conversation with Tavros. You’d be more offended if you weren’t happy for him. You’ve caught them talking all night, dancing with each other during your set, exchanging glances when the other was across the room.

You walk across the parking lot to where you see him waiting for you, Latula and Rufioh’s laughter chorus behind you. You’d rather be in on their joke than walking to Jake. He straightens his stance when you approach his car. Maybe it’s because you haven’t seen him in awhile but he looks taller. You stand an appropriate distance away from him considering you don’t know what this talk is supposed to be about. You also don’t want to send any wrong signals to him and you’re afraid getting close to him would be one of those. 

“Strider,” he says and takes another step toward you. “I’ve missed you.”

It’s going to be one of those talks, you guess. You sigh through your nose. This isn’t how you wanted to end your good night. 

“Jake, look,” for once you’re unsure what to say but decide to go with it. “I didn’t feel anything for you. It was okay for a little, but honestly I think it’s better this way.” That was half a lie; it never felt okay.

“We haven’t talked in months,” he replies. He sounds dejected. “I miss your company.”

He takes advantage of your silence by stepping closer to you. His size isn’t intimidating more than it is overwhelming. Sure, you have muscle but it doesn’t sit on you the way his does. You feel the heat of him as he starts leans down to you. The light from the parking lot makes his puckered lips shine and flashstep backwards. He catches himself before he falls on his face. You wish he had.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you start with what you were going to say before he tried to make a move. “Especially after your little performance, I would rather keep our interactions to a minimum when we can. I’ve already deleted your number. Maybe you should do the same?”

You pick up the movement of his jaw clenching from your new distance and you can tell he's hurt. There's no way you feel bad though. You’re not exactly sure what he expected when he called you out here. You thought you were pretty clear the last time you saw him.

“Is there someone else?” He asks quietly. God, why is he trying to make this painful for himself? You contemplate walking away without saying anything; it’s not like you owe him a response. You remember looking down at John’s eyes while his pretty mouth wrapped around your cock. Fuck, you want to get home.

“Yeah,” you say proudly. You don't even try to hide the emotion. “And he likes smuppets.”

You flashstep halfway across the parking lot back toward your car before he can say anything. Your grin doesn’t leave as you reunite with your new friends and Gamzee. They had waited for you, so you do them a solid and wait with them while their Lyft arrives. When there’s still a couple minutes before it shows up, Rufioh pulls you aside, out of earshot of everyone.

“ _‘Tavros, believe in the me that believes in you, love Bro,’_ ” he quotes back to you. “Man, you really are something else.”

“I thought it was fitting,” you reason, smiling. You know he appreciates the reference. He’s complimented your shades at least ten times tonight. It made you happy every single time. There's very few who acknowledge them in that way.

“It is,” he agrees. “I just want to thank you for everything. Things have been really hard at home, and I wanted to give him the best birthday imaginable. I never thought this would happen though. It’s better than anything I had planned.”

His words resonate with you the same way Tavros’s did hours ago. Even in the dark you can see the worry on his face as he looks across the parking lot to his brother, who is smiling and exchanging numbers with Gamzee. There’s been a few times throughout the night that you’ve felt reminders to how you and Dave were from watching the two brothers together. This is a big one for you. The desire to help him. Things in the family are falling apart, but he wants to be able to show his younger brother that good things can still happen. You get that feeling completely, and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” you tell him as you take off your shades. “From one big brother to another.” You take his hand and place the pointed shades into his palm and close it around them. He looks into your eyes, down at his hand, and back up at you.

“Bro, come on-”

“I have a backup pair the car,” you shrug. “Those are the ones I wear to shows. I want Tavros to have them. Birthday present or whatever.”

“Seriously, you’ve already-”

“I told you what would happen if I ever met Dr. Dre,” you stop him for the final time because his Lyft is pulling into the parking lot. “I want to give him the experience I always imagined.”

“You’re cooler than the articles say.”

You laugh, “really? Feels more like I’ve just gone soft.”

“Nah, dude. You’re just picky about the company you keep.”

Latula yells to you guys, she wants a hug from her new brother-in-law before she leaves. Rufioh runs back to the group and you follow after him. You hug Latula first, then Mituna. Tavros is in the back of the group and you saved your tightest hug for him. You hope it won’t be the last time you see any of them. Gamzee hugs down the line too and you get into your car as they drive away. 

Your cellphone goes off in your pocket, Latula sending you the picture. Another text pops up immediately after.

t4vros lov3s h1s pr3s3nt. :)

“Tonight was a good night,” you can’t help your smile as you see Gamzee texting. You don’t even have to ask. He looks up at you grinning.

“You didn’t have to use your AK,” he responds and the laughter that rings in the car is uncontrollable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of actual BroJohn, I just kinda wanted to have a little fun and flesh out Bro's character a bit more. I like how this arc turned out. I think it shows how much he's changed since John.


End file.
